Flaming Pablum

Manhattan of The Damned

The Damned first played New York City’s CBGB in 1977, the first British Punk band to do so (along with having been the first British Punk band to issue any vinyl). During that maiden voyage, the band were famously captured by erstwhile CBGB door-minder/photographer Roberta Bayley in the photo above, posing with great, snotty aplomb in front of the twin towers of the World Trade Center.

The band ended up playing four April nights at CBGB, sharing the bill with their Buckeye counterparts in the Dead Boys. Here’s a shot of them during one of those doubtlessly volatile evenings, this one taken by Ebet Roberts.

Today, meanwhile, in trawling around the `net, looking for nothing in particular, I came across this uncredited photo from the same era. I’m making some assumptions here but based on the line-up (with guitarist Brian James still in the ranks), I’m guessing this was snapped during that same span of April days. I have no idea who took it, but my question is – where in Manhattan was this photograph snapped?

I’d say the awning behind Dave Vanian on the left is a big clue, as are the terraced apartments behind Captain Sensible’s head. I have a hunch which I’m going to investigate, but where do YOU think it was taken?

The Damned are coming back to New York City (with original drummer Rat Scabies with them, this time) this May, but the next day is my son’s graduation, so I don’t think we’ll be going. We did just see them in October, anyway.

Meanwhile, here’s a taste of one of those shows…

Devolving Again

My very first concert ever was DEVO at Radio City Music Hall in 1981. I saw them a second time the following year at the Palladium on East 14th Street, this being well before its makeover from a live-music venue into a giant nightclub. A few years later, I saw them outside of New York City in 1988 at Columbus’ own Newport Music Hall in their home state of Ohio, and later still at the Hammerstein Ballroom, McCarren Pool in Brooklyn, at Central Park Summerstage, a couple of performances at Irving Plaza and then at Pier 17 in 2022. If they come to town, or I’m in a town where they’re playing – I go. It’s that simple.

For that last show at Pier 17, I brought my then-16-year-old son, Oliver, making DEVO his very first concert, too. The boy returns this very day from his first year at Trinity Dublin in Ireland, and tonight, we are going to see DEVO at the Brooklyn Paramount.

The picture in the frame was taken by the great Allan Tannenbaum, who captured it at the 1981 show that was my first concert. He lives in TriBeCa, and I bought a print of it from him several years back. He’s also got a great retrospective show happening at the Morrison Hotel Gallery that is well worth everyone’s time.

Beatle on Bank Street

Hey all. Again, please pardon for the relative slowdown in posting, but life’s just a bit busy, these days. My kids return from college very soon, so we’re getting ready for that. Work is typically crazy. I’ll have another brain-busting update on the fucked-up feet front, soon, after I take my dreaded NCV test …. ahem, “Nerve Conduction Velocity” … next week. So, y’know … get excited for that.

But real quick, I spotted the below two items recently, and figured I should share them.

I’ve posted several entries, over the years (see below), speculating about what John Lennon loved most about living in New York. I mean, obviously, what’s not to love, especially if you’re living in the fuckin’ Dakota, but what specifically did he love? Did he have a favorite pizzeria? Did he go to gigs at CBGB? What’d he get up to here?

I’ve gotten a little bit of that picture, but I came across the video below, put together by Strange History X, that delves into John and Yoko’s relatively brief tenure living in the West Village, specifically on Bank Street. Here’s the blurb:

Step into the world of John Lennon as we explore his life in New York City’s legendary Greenwich Village. From the vibrant streets to the bohemian spirit, discover how this iconic neighborhood shaped the former Beatle’s creative and personal journey in the 1970s. We’ll dive into the stories behind his move to the Village, his time with Yoko Ono, and the eclectic energy that fueled his music and activism. Imagine the Village through Lennon’s eyes—peace, love, and rock ‘n’ roll await!

Enjoy…

Speaking of the West Village, I read a wholly dispiriting (but not especially surprising) piece in New York Magazine’s The Cut about how – in the wake of the one-two punch of “Sex & The City” and fuckin’ COVID-19, the very same West Village depicted in the video above is now little more than the stomping ground of a nation of matcha-sipping “influencer” girls. Make of that what you will and click here to read more.

More on the Lennons in Flaming Pablum...

Where was John's Manhattan? 

Mudd Club `79: Beatle Meets Misfit, Puke Ensues

Bleecker Bob’s Beatle Boast to Bauhaus Bassist

Finding Lennon’s Manhattan

Lennon on Punk

Revisiting “One Down, Three to Go”

Oh Yoko

The Walrus Goes to Hell’s Kitchen

Back ... Again ... to Privates on East 85th

I’ve spoken here before about Privates, the long-lost cutting-edge live-music venue that formerly stood on the strenuously unlikely corner of East 85th Street and Lexington Avenue. Don’t go looking for it now, as the venue closed in June of 1981 and the whole building was torn down sometime after that. Today, a big yucky condo called The Ventana stands in its footprint, with a Starbucks occupying the space that would have been Privates, back in the day.

But, as mentioned in this post and that post, as Privates, the space played host a slew of at-the-time cutting edge bands like Joe “King” Carrasco & the Crowns, the Revillos, Cyndi Lauper’s Blue Angel, Richard Lloyd from Television, a late, Frampton-less iteration of Humble Pie, and even Flaming Pablum favorites like XTC, The Stranglers and Bauhaus. The whole concept of that last trio of punky bands playing on my childhood home turf of East 85th Street completely blows my mind.

Jessica over at Desperately Seeking the `80’s devoted her half of a podcast episode to an event at Privates wherein the club hosted a special screening of hallowed cinematic ska opus, “Dance Craze,” which doubtlessly prompted scads of skinny-tied Upper East Sides to partake of some skanking in the streets.

Of course, arguably the most famous act to have ever graced the presumably intimate stage of this club in Metropolitan Hill (note: contrary to my dubious reporting in previous missives, the southeast corner of East 85th Street and Lexington Avenue is not technically part of Yorkville, although it is mere footsteps from its westerly border) would have been Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, who recorded the arguably iconic video for “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” within Privates’ four walls.

I talked all about that, of course, on these two posts from 2016.

Apropos of nothing, however, I recently dialed up the video in question, only to discover that, circa 2022, someone had uploaded a new “Full HD (Remastered and Upscaled)” version which swapped out the original’s grittily grainy black-&-white patina in favor of sharpened, vibrant color and enhanced proceedings with disquieting dollops of AI.

The results restore the full experience of the original music video, complete with preamble and coda, revealing the full interior of the empty club and a tantalizing 180-degree vista of the surrounding neighborhood beyond Privates’ windows at the end. Having never set foot in the place (I would have been a sniveling 14-year-old upon its closure), the ability to see the former interior in such detail is something of a revelation.

It also got me thinking, who are all these kids in the crowd scenes? Were they members of a Joan Jett fan-club? Rockheads bussed in from some outer borough? Any representatives of the 84th Street Bombers? Are there any local NYC punk luminaries to be spotted hidden in the throng?

Weigh in if you know.

Clix on Wax

I had a nice surprise, today.

The daughter of some dear friends of ours just got back from spending a semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Back over Labor Day weekend, we’d all gotten together and Ella — the daughter in question — heard me laboriously bloviating about the whole Clics Modernos saga. It’s a long, convoluted story, but if you’ve not been following this blog for very long, I played a small role in determining the exact location of the cover of the landmark 1983 album by preeminent Argentine rock star, Charly Garcia — via an old photograph by a Swedish tourist of Cortandt Alley at Walker Street in TriBeCa. It’s actually way more complicated than that, but you can read more here, if you’re curious.

In any case, I posted that all that here on my silly blog, back before the days COVID, and intrepid Argentines Inaki Rojas and Mariano Cabrera went a bit berserk, suggesting it was like determining the precise location of Abbey Road.

In 2023, a plaque was put up on the corner to commemorate it, which was a very big deal indeed. It’s now a spot that thousands of fans flock to in order to pay homage. Don’t believe me? Click here and scroll down,

Anyway, prizing a vinyl copy of the record (let alone from its native Argentina) is no easy feat, but thanks to Ella, I now possess it.

Yay for Ella!

Christmas with Fishbone at The Ritz, 1987

Fresh in my head since doing this post, I strolled by the Ritz … or, more accurately … Webster Hall of East 11th Street, over the weekend and snapped the photograph above. I’m trying to think of the last time I was actually inside the building, and I think it must have been when I saw the Secret Machines and …And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead there in … cripes… 2009. So, yeah, it’s been a minute, but it’s still near and dear to my heart.

In any case, some may remember a post I did back in 2017 wherein I recounted some of my favorite shows there, notably a pair of shows featuring the triple bill of The Toasters, Murphy’s Law and Fishbone in December of 1987. Here’s what I had to say about it in 2017…

My favorite anecdote about The Ritz, however, involves one of a pair of shows in December of 1987, which featured Fishbone, The Toasters and Murphy’s Law. My friend Rob D. and I attended both of these Christmas gigs (hot on the release of Fishbone’s holiday EP, It’s a Wonderful Life), and the room was jam-packed with an army of punks, skinheads, rudeboys, rockers, hardcore kids, college types and all points in between. It was, as they say, the event of the season.

On both nights, each band whipped the capacity crowd up into a complete frenzy, but on the first of the two evenings, I remember being amidst the pit during Murphy’s Law’s frenetic set. The heat coming off the crowd was intense, and the action was nonstop. I managed to weave my pipe-cleaner-like physique through the merry melee to the western side of the room, clinging to the bar as if it was the side of a deep pool. Sweaty and exhausted, I petitioned the bartender -- via a variety of complex hand-signals, given the stentorian din of Murphy’s Law at full throttle -– for a COKE! As if on cue, right as the barkeep was completing my order, lead singer Jimmy Gestapo (a moniker he has since tastefully renounced, truncating to simply “Jimmy G.”) heroically vaulted from the Ritz stage and onto the very bar to which I was leaning. Just as my cup of ice-laden Coca-Cola was put down in front of me, Jimmy started enthusiastically skanking down the bar, with limbs akimbo, flailing in time with the music. Just as I was reaching for my beverage, Jimmy brought his battle-weathered Doc Marten down on my cup with a splattering-STOMP. Fittingly or unwittingly, no soft drinks were going to be consumed on his watch.

Indeed, it was quite an occasion, and while it was over three decades ago, those memories are still quite vivid, for me.

I started sniffing around the internet, recently, looking for any comparable accounts of those shows. I do this periodically, and usually come up empty handed, but I struck oil today.

The first find was an auction site called VNTG Shop, who are selling an original shirt – XL no less – from those shows.

Cool, right? Well, as delightful it would be to own that, VNTG wants $375 for it, so … suffice to say, that’s not happening, for me. If you want to surprise me with a gift, someday, you now have all you need to know and act on.

The second thing I found, meanwhile, was this site, Fishbonelive.org, who hosted photos from the event!!! Here are just a couple...

Murphy's Law...

..and here's Fishbone...

I’m in there somewhere…no shots of the Toasters, sadly.

Tragically, as far as I'm aware, there is no video of either of the two show in question, but here's a little taste of what was on offer.

Here's Murphy's Law at the Ritz, at some indeterminate point. They're opening for someone here (notice the covered drum kit behind the drum kit?), but no idea of when and for whom..

This, meanwhile, is the Toasters circa 1987...

Lastly, this is the mighty Fishbone, as captured around the same era in Tokyo...

Just For Clix: Whorelords on the Corner

Here’s a curious one.

The shot above comes from the ever-excellent New York Hardcore Chronicles Facebook page. The ensemble depicted therein was a band called The Whorelords, who were fronted by a gentleman named Bobby Snotz. I spoke about there about eleven years ago. Here’s what Misfits Central tells us about them…

Bobby Snotz formed this band in 1978 with Tarik Schapli. Because Tarik hadn't been playing guitar for long, Barry (and later Bobby Steele) joined the band as second guitarist. The Whorelords performed live several times while Bobby Steele was in the band; he left when he was asked to join The Misfits. Along with The Whorelords came a group of Whorettes (Charlotte Harlotte, Diedre, Carry Hamilton, and Rachel Rage) who did background vocals. Some members of The Whorelords went on to form Hell Sent, who opened for The Misfits in September 1979. A Whorelords reunion show took place that weekend when Bobby Snotz showed up and replaced Hell Sent's singer Kate K-Mart to perform a set of Whorelords songs. After spending a few years in jail, Snotz reformed the band in 1982. At some point during this time, they recorded a demo tape (with Pete Marshall on guitar) that has never been released. Bobby Snotz and Tarik also recorded as The Fiends on the New York Thrash compilation. Snotz was beaten to death in 1992.

There are two other small things of note, her. First up, the gent on the far left is depicted wearing a Blitz Benefit t-shirt (which I wrote about back here). Secondly, and this is really what initially jumped out at me, the tag behind the band is none other than MODERN CLIX, Fran Powers’ old band, and the impetus behind Charly Garcia’s Clics Modernos and Charly Garcia Corner.

For more on Fran Powers, click here and here.

For more on Charly Garcia’s Clics Modernos and Charly Garcia Corner, click here and here. 

I shared this back in 2014, but here were the Whorelords in action:

Bad Brains on Jane

The originally appeared, early last year, on Howie Abrams’ excellent No Echo site, but sheerly for the sake of evangelizing it, I’m sharing it here, too.

For backstory, check out Howie’s account, but this is Bad Brains just prior to I Against I as captured in the original Rock Hotel, over on Jane Street (which I’ve spoken about several times here, most recently here).

It’s remarkable stuff. Enjoy.

Exhuming Carter Stevens' "Punk Rock"

Here’s something I was entirely unaware of until last night, for whatever that’s worth.

Searching on our maddening Apple TV box for something to watch, I believe I was on Amazon Prime when an option titled, rather simply, “Punk Rock,” appeared on the menu, immediately piquing my curiosity.

Shot in 1977 by a notorious director named Carter Stevens, this endeavor was apparently a slavishly low-budget, exploitative porn flick with an anemic plot about a hardscrabble detective that tries to break up a sex-trafficking ring in the seedy underbelly of late `70’s New York, with, presumably, lots of needless and grainy coitus along the way (I’m projecting – I didn’t actually end up watching it, as I didn’t think it would have been a grand idea to have my wife walk into our living room to find me watching unseemly vintage porn). I did, however, watch the trailer, which I’m sharing with you below. You’re very welcome.

Here's a bit of the promotional text, as prized from IMDB:

Filmed on location at New York's legendary underground clubs such as Max's Kansas City and featuring original music and appearances from bands THE STILLETTOS, THE SQUIRRELS, SPICY BITS and THE FAST! On the track of a teenage runaway, a trail of murder, sex, and drugs leads private eye Jimmy into the decadent New York City night world: from massage parlors to penthouses and after-hours nightclubs; from sex slavers and pimps to the dangerous members of a killer rock'n'roll band!

Sounds almost promising, right? Well, don’t get too excited. What little I’ve seen of the film looks pretty dire, but the Max’s Kansas City footage is interesting. In terms of the names cited, the only bands of those I recognize are The Fast (who I spoke about here and here) and The Stillettos, a band that later spun off bassist Fred Smith to Television and Debbie Harry and Chris Stein, who went onto form – wait for it – Blondie. The Squirrels and the Spicy Bits? One can only guess. Suffice to say, it makes the infamous "punk rock" episode of "Quincy M.E." seem like a reverent documentary, by comparison. 

There’s a great, comprehensive book, from a few years ago, that someone gave me called “Destroy All Movies: The Complete Guide to Punks on Film” that I meant to remove from one of my bookshelves and look this film up in, but time got away from me. In the interim, enjoy the trailer…featuring blink-and-you’ll-miss’em cameos of the original MacDougal Street iteration of Bleecker Bob’s (just off Eighth Street) and the St. Marks Place location of Trash & Vaudeville.

Incidentally, if you also possess a copy of “Destroy All Movies,” hold onto it – it’s out of print, and now can fetch between $180 to $300 on eBay.

Faith Comes to the East Village: The Cure at the Ritz, 1981

The videos below have been circulating for some time, for avid Cure heads, but possibly not for the layperson. I only recently discovered this footage, so thought it’d be worth sharing here, but not just because of the coolness of The Cure.

Shot in the summer of 1981 for a Spanish television special, this footage finds the Cure hitting New York City for two nights of their tour for the album Faith (the band having recently jettisoned keyboardist Matthieu Hartley, reducing themselves to a trio). I’m jumping to a conclusion, here, but I’m guessing that Spanish television took an interest in these gigs because of the venue. The Ritz – as a live-music venue for rock acts -- would have only just revealed itself as such about a year earlier, when it changed over from its iteration as Casa Galicia, an organization – according to Wikipedia -- that promoted cultural ties with Spain. While the venue was now operating as a rock club, it was still owned by Casa Galicia (as it still is today). Being that I don’t speak a lick of Spanish, I can’t actually tell you what the presenter in the beginning of the clip is saying, but you can still see the old paint job and some remaining signage from the Casa Galicia era behind him. Let’s go there now…

The live footage of the band, meanwhile, is sharp and stark, finding the band moving further away from their more accessible origins. The material they were promoting here from their third LP, Faith was quite a long way from the comparatively spritely pop of their first record, finding Robert Smith wading deeper into the dark waters of moribund introspection and existential dread. Brimming with ruminations of death, grief and empty religious dogma, tracks like “The Funeral Party,” “The Drowning Man” and “Other Voices” weren’t destined to become student-disco bangers so much as hymns for a future generation of perpetually black-clad lost sheep. While not as cruel, nihilistic and gloom laden as the record that would follow it, Pornography, the whole of Faith is still a grim horse pill of a listening experience. The songs captured here, meanwhile, … despite all my purpose prose for Faith, are both originally from the preceding album, Seventeen Seconds.

I’m sure the presenter, who returns to the screen to interview Robert in some ancillary chamber of The Ritz at about four minutes and ….er…. seventeen seconds (coincidence?) is expounding on comparable points, but again – I don’t speak Spanish, so I can’t say for sure. Unfortunately, Robert’s answers are obscured by a Spanish voice-over, so it’s hard to glean what he’s saying, although he seems to be politely taking exception to being repeatedly referred to as “a New Wave band.” You can’t really blame him for that. Mercifully, the live material resumes after that.

Of course, for those of you who don’t care so much about all that extraneous info, there’s this handy truncation featuring solely the performance footage. You’re welcome.

At the time of this filming in July of 1981, I was in between 8th grade and high school, and invariably hadn’t heard of The Cure, as yet. I would have been more deeply entrenched in my stubborn affinity of heavy metal and immersing myself further into adoration for bands like Devo and the burgeoning underground of Hardcore Punk (as it was then still called). In fact, I wouldn’t set foot in the Ritz until four years after this was shot -- in December of 1985 to see the Circle Jerks, D.O.A. and Redd Kross (as floridly discussed here). By that point, I’d have heard the Cure via their incongruously poppy MTV hits like “Let’s Go to Bed” and “The Walk,” which owed precious fuck-all to the pervasive emotional torpor of the Faith era. But with the release of The Head on The Door (and the crucial compilation Standing on a Beach) in the spring of 1986, I became a devout Cure fan, going on to see them several times, but never in a venue as intimate as the Ritz.

The picture up top, meanwhile, was quite likely snapped during the same day this footage was captured (given that they’re wearing the same duds). They’re pictured standing in the fabled Tunnel of Light at 127 John Street near the South Street Seaport, which I’ve written about too many times here (see list below).

More About The Cure on Flaming Pablum

Searching for The Cure

Finding The Cure

Thirty Years of Disintegration

Robert Smith ... Prophet?

Lured to the Lost World: Reconvening with The Cure

Down in the Park

More About The Ritz on Flaming Pablum

Slaytanic Fits at the Ritz in `86

Puttin' on the Ritz

Ritz Redux

Before the Ritz

Back Yet Again to The Ritz

Final Rhapsody for The Ritz

A Requiem for the Ritz, A Wake for Webster Hall

Rising Above at the Ritz

As The Ritz Listz

As The Ritz Rotz

Reincarnating The Ritz

B-Boys in the Batcave

Sisters vs. Black Flag at The Ritz

More About the Tunnel of Light at 127 John Street on Flaming Pablum

Walk Into the Light

Joe Walks Into the Light

Walk into the Light: Slight Return

Ace in That Place

Walk Back into the Light

Invading “Downtown” & the Fall of Danceteria

I went down sort of a rabbit hole, recently, trying to locate someone I used to know at Danceteria via social media, and came across this odd gem. As originally spotted on the Danceteria Employees & Customers page by one Dee Cortex, this is Downtown Artists Against AIDS’s cover of Petulia Clark’s “Downtown.” Organized by Steve Saporta of Invasion Records, the D.A.A.A (I guess) featured folks like Kym Rider, Tish & Snooky of the Sic Fucks, Jerry Harrison of Talking Heads, Sara Lee of Gang of Four, Willie DeVille of Mink Deville, Cinema of Transgression director Beth B and some other folks. The clip was edited by Cortex and Paul Rachman.

The video was posted on YouTube in 2007, but I’d be super curious as to what year it was shot. Check it out. Who else can you spot? I recognize Michael Musto in there, at the very least. 

In terms of Danceteria – which pops up throughout the clip – I was lucky enough to visit the 21st street iteration (the second of three) a few times before it sadly shuttered in 1986. Suggested reasons why it closed run the gamut. One pervasive and quite credible theory is that, in the wake of the murder of Jennifer Levin in the Summer of 1986, the city cracked down on establishments that took a pervasively permissive stance on serving alcohol to underage patrons, something that had previous been pretty rampant.

The second theory, however, as I fleetingly alluded to here, was that the club had to close in the wake of a freakish incident in which someone fell to their death after the building’s elevator doors opened at the wrong time. I was first told this tragic tale on a Kafka-esque blind date in the mid-`90s, and I always thought it sounded suspiciously apocryphal. But not too long ago, I happened upon this blog entry, uploaded in 2009, recounting in very great, grisly detail, the alleged incident from the surviving victim’s perspective. That individual lived to tell the tale (and, as of 2009, at least, became a club DJ in Berlin), but still no direct correlation as to whether that near-fatal accident had anyting to do with the demise of that iteration of Danceteria.

If you know, write in, do!

Also, if you never had the opportunity to walk around in Danceteria during its tenure on West 21st Street, Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth has you covered. As poached from Dangerous Minds on this entry, she took it upon herself to capture the interiors on a video she called "Making the Nature Scene." I don't believe the offering elevator shaft makes an appearance.