February 2, 2010
Junky Stuff
I’ve never patronized Apex Electronics and I wouldn’t know what to do if I did. My electronics expertise consists of properly connecting the Roku box, VCR and DVD player so that I don’t freak out everytime I need to switch inputs on the damn television. (Also, I can thread a projector.) However, I’m a big fan of control panels and archaic tubes, wires, machine guts and carcasses of obsolete advancements.
Somehow the promise of some sort of mechanical redemption, untapped technological magic, is hidden in the bowels of a junkheap. I really liked these little 360-degree views of Apex’s store and yard treasures. Drag your pointer over the window in any direction for some fun.
It’s always been a mental struggle to part with ex-devices. If I was to allow the psychosis to roam wild, my apartment would look just like that.
Devo – “Timing X”
Rick at 12:12 am
January 16, 2010
No Regrets
Century-old cemetery, Sonora, CA, December 2009. Photo by Rick S. Hall.
The Walker Brothers – “No Regrets”
Rick at 5:56 pm
January 14, 2010
Warm Fuzzies
Toe Stubber has been selected for an award on the internet! The shocking news came courtesy of the lovely and talented Ivan Lerner 
over at The United Provinces of Ivanlandia. Maybe I’m paranoid. It’s gotta be Ivan poking fun at me. After all, the Toe Stubber has been positively obnoxious in his loud disdain for awards and award ceremonies. Ivan himself has been on the receiving end of many long, frothing rants about the uselessness of various Halls of Fame and celebrity suckfests, to the extent that he’s had to wipe flecks of my spittle and bile off of his mad scientist spectacle lenses. And now I’m expected to just calmly and graciously accept an award? One with pink roses on it? Must be a test of my faith in meritocracy.
Well. Okay.
This transparent sham comes at a convenient time, anyway, since I have extra time on my hands. Enough to slavishly roll onto my back for a virtual tummy rub. And enough to fulfill the requirements of the One Lovely Blog Rules Committee (also known as the Council of Nine), which is to pass the “award” along to 15 deserving blogs which as far as I know have not yet received it. Yes, that’s right – this is one huge, exponentially-growing pyramid scam that can end only after every blog on the Web has got the same award… or, the people at the top start receiving kickbacks, Herbalife™ style. I really hope it’s the latter.
Some of these folks are my friends; some have not updated in a while. All these sites are worth the most sparkly, blinky, kitchy animated gif that a person can bestow:
This list purposely left out strict music/mp3 blogs (sorry, Killed By Death Records) or political blogs (else The Agitator would surely be gettin’ some too). Tried to stick to humor and/or general movie/art/sleazy interest blogs. Now it’s time for our Lovely new winners to pass on the confusing good vibes to their own 15 favorite nominees – the sooner for me to start raking in that cash!
If you are looking for more good time websites, we have finally cleaned up the sidebar at the right, where you can enjoy perma-links that actually work for a change.
Sonic’s Rendezvous Band – “Electrophonic Tonic”
Rick at 1:19 am
January 1, 2010
No Time Like the First Time
In my mind, there are a handful of the moribund hits of the 1970s that, because of situational associations, give me the creeps.
One of them is Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song,” the title track from her fifth LP. I was probably eleven years old, reading a House of Mystery comic book story about a guy who gets shipwrecked on an island populated with an intelligent colony of ants that spell out “EAT US” while he’s delirious from starvation, spurring his mutation into a helpless half-man half-insect. As my skin crawled at the big reveal in the final panel, the clear, otherworldly, deliberate voice of Roberta Flack was flowing brightly from the next room. It was cold and irresistible. That song gave me nightmare flashbacks for years. It’s okay now, of course; in fact, I frequently like riding the time machine and replaying those forgotten shudders.
Instead of that, let’s hear “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” from Roberta’s exquisite First Take debut LP.
If you ask me, this song was the blueprint for Angelo Badalamenti for his synth-weirded “Mysteries of Love” in the movie Blue Velvet, sung by Julee Cruise and a military-grade reverb generator. This fact is at least as obvious to me as the classic “My Sweet Lord” kerfluffle. But one can’t blame the guy. Both are beautiful in their own way. Listen and see.
Roberta Flack – “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”
Angelo Badalamenti – “Mysteries of Love”
Rick at 6:43 pm
November 19, 2008
You, Robot
I have watched this piece of video so many times, it seemed appropriate to post it on the off-chance you haven’t seen it yet. This huge, prancing mule/spider robot hybrid sends chills down my spine. What’s amazing is its naturalistic animal “sense” of balance which is illustrated well by making it climb over piles of rubble, snow and ice, and by the researcher who kicks the robot in its robot ribcage and then watches it right itself. Imagine walking through the woods and seeing this massive buzzing monstrosity striding toward you. Mom was right. These are the End Times!
Clearly we’ve come a long way since the ED-209 enforcement droid. One day soon, I expect that this site will be written in its entirety by the Boston Dynamics Big Dog or one of his mechanized cohorts. Kudos to the humans who are making this happen.
VOM - “Too Animalistic”
Rick at 2:35 am
September 9, 2008
Nothing Doings
Occasionally, people come across old Toestubber posts and – perhaps not realizing that we’ve been dormant almost a year with nary a peep on the site – they make contact to supply me with updates and/or additional insider info. It’s great when a pile of research falls into my lap, sparing me the effort. There are several such emails I’ve been holding back for the date when I’d be posting again.
Recently, Michael “Mickey Crash” Oakleaf was kind enough to write.
He was the drummer on the infamous The Nothing 45 which was reviewed here a couple of years back. The Nothing is one of those bands that’s been a big mystery to many learned scholars of early New York punk rock. As I mentioned in the old post, singer Trixz Sly had a tiny background role in the movie Driller Killer, their only record is impossibly rare (though it has been reissued on compilations, most notably the Killed By Death series)... and that’s about all the direct info I could find at the time. Let’s get the real scoop from Mickey Crash hisself:
“I was in touch with Trixz up until a few years ago when he passed away in Miami, Florida. I’m happy that people like the record after all these years. At the time it was made, we had a very hard time and ended up giving most of the 45s away to fans, etc. We were banned from Max’s and The Mudd Club. Most people thought Trixz was a troublemaker and no record companies were interested.
“There’s a video on YouTube of the band’s second incarnation (after Angel left to join the Rockats) playing at The Showplace in Dover NJ in early 1980… The keyboards were by Webster Smith (Rex Smith’s brother). He joined along with Phil after Angel left in February 1980. Eddie Spit (Fields) replaced Angel on guitar.” ...
... “The bass player, Phil Shoenfeldt, and I left to join Disturbed Furniture a few months after the video was shot by Al Zero. Bobby B. Wild (guitar) left in August of ‘79 shortly after the single was made.
“The record was recorded at Bernard Fox Studios in NYC by an engineer named George(?). An intern there named Judy DiBerardino adopted the band to record for her senior high school project. It was recorded in one afternoon, in July or August of 1979, and mixed a few days later by George and Trixz. The crazy tambourine part was overdubbed by Trixz, and the rest of the band wasn’t happy about it. I remember when we were recording that George used every pad available to cut down the hot mic levels, but all the meters were still pinned. He gave up and rolled the tape despite the distortion. 
“I went on to a career in audio, and currently manage Kampo Cultural Center which has several recording studios and an art gallery/performance space not far from where CBGB used to be. Before that I worked at Sony Studios. I’ve played in many other NYC bands and still play drums (most recently with Brett Smiley)... Angel and I have been talking about putting out a CD of the remastered 45 plus some unreleased tracks. With any luck it might happen before we kick the bucket too.”
The video (above) suffers a bit from poor technical fidelity (probably in part due to loud-as-fuckness), but to Nothing fans, it’s certainly worth seeing, for context and for some unheard tunes!
A very sincere thank you to Mick for taking the time to set the record (ahem) straight on this amazing artifact.
And here’s the music again, for a brief time…
Rick at 9:46 pm
September 10, 2007
Happy Returns
We’re back after a five-month hiatus. No explanations will be forthcoming. Let’s get right to it.
This blog (if you can still call it that after five months) is no stranger to Japanese TV and movie themes, and, well, I did promise, oh, let’s see… five goddamn months ago… to post up some of these 7-inch records I purchased abroad, so let’s pretend this is the first in a series.
Jinzoo Ningen Kikaidaa was based on a comic book, and it falls squarely in the Tokusatsu category of action TV shows – or, if you prefer English, “nerds in funny costumes.” Jiro is a young guitar-playin’ man driving a sidecar-equipped motorcycle, who is, in reality, a crazy-looking robot android, Kikaida. With a bizarre half-semi-translucent head with pupil-less baby-doll eyes, rocket feet and super-strength, he battles the varied creatures/robots of the Dark Destruction Corps using space age weaponry and fancy karate techniques. If I was ten years old, I’d be all over that shit.
Stuart has an information-rich webpage devoted to the Jinzoo Ningen Kikaidaa television series. Unfortunately, it’s one of those sites where an mp3 suddenly starts playing really loud, and you have to make a split-second choice: do I scroll down in a panic while the page is loading and try to locate the player and hit PAUSE, or hit the Back button and hope my browser doesn’t trip over itself and freeze for the duration of the song? It’s nervewracking, that’s what it is. Be reassured that Toestubber Dot Com will never do that to you. On the plus side, after you silence his HTML, Stuart will tell you much more than you thought you ever wanted to know about our mechanical hero, even providing these hilarious drawings Stuart made when he was a young fan!
If you find you’re hooked, the DVD box set is for sale from this otaku store.
A very enterprising former kid (“Inframan”) translated the mighty words to Yuuki Hide’s rendition of the title theme song:
The guitared Jiro, our hero
He’s a gentle and strong robot
Battling with evil once again today
With a guitar punch, strikes them down
Finish off the Dark Robots
Side Machine, car of the future
Tearing up the atmosphere, it runs
Even in water it floats
At mach speed it flies off
Finish off the Dark Robots
Kikaida is an android
Like a jet, he flies in the air
The sure-death move is the Giant Swing
With the Double Chop he smashes
Finish off the Dark Robots
‘Nuff said.
On Stuart’s tribute page, the aforementioned translator delivers an amazing list of Kikaidaa episode titles that sound like a cross between a Chinese seafood menu and sci-fi hentai schoolgirl porn: 
“Making Babies Cry Red Devil Tigerfish,” “Sponge Green Lives Thrice,” “Blue Electric Eel The Evil Hands Glisten!” and “Madder Red Squid Targets The Pretty Girl Scholar” should whet your appetite.
I acquired this record (on clear blood-red vinyl, with 10-page cardboard booklet) for about six bucks, probably ‘cause the former owner scribbled on the cover here and there, as you can see from the scans. Don’t curse the Japanese child. You’re getting 3/4 of it for free.
Jinzoo Ningen Kikaidaa Opening Theme (MP3)
Robot Drama: Track 3 (MP3)
Jinzoo Ningen Kikaidaa End Theme (MP3)
Rick at 12:35 am
April 15, 2007
International Male
The week since my return from Tokyo has been flavored with the worst jet lag I’ve ever experienced.
Eleven-hour sleeping jags punctuated with ridiculous insomniac episodes. As Yoshi says, in his most disdainful voice, “Of course.”
Anyway, the city was awesome, as predicted. I love this place. When I was younger, I would dream of traveling. Idle dreams. It didn’t become clear until later that international travel doesn’t just happen to you – you actually have to do things.
Of course, these days it’s a little harder in some ways. At LAX, on the way to my flight, an eagle-eyed, superstitious DHS airport screener literally yelped with glee to see my half-drunk bottle of water going through the xray machine.
Her: Oh! What’s this? You’re not allowed to bring this in here.
Me: There weren’t any signs saying that.
Her: It’s been on the news.
Me: Yeah, I just really thought we’d be over that stuff by now.
Her (deadly serious): Oh, no. It’s going to get worse! They tried to blow up a plane. As long as they can make bombs with this stuff, it’s going to get worse. We can’t let you take liquid on a plane.
Me: But that’s not true. It’s scientifically impossible…
Her: It is true, sir.
Naturally, I wasn’t allowed to drink the remainder of my potentially explosive dihydrogen monoxide on the spot, in front of her. This rule might seem kinda counterintuitive if – as I had assumed – the purpose is to screen out toxins and liguids other than water! But that’s some pre-9/11 thinking right there. Who knows if terrorists have figured out a way to combine a colorless, odorless liquid with stomach acids to form a time-released explosion with the power to depressurize a cabin at 35,000 feet? I think it was in that 24 episode where Jack Bauer’s adversary had the really awful diarrhea.
Apparently, Kip Hawley isn’t the only idiot around here. And here I am bitching about our Homeland overlords; that’s so 2003.
Anyways, back to the fun stuff: Japan! Please check out my 130+ gallery of memories... and don’t judge me for photo-stalking the Singapore Air hostesses. You haven’t flown a mile in my pants.
In the weeks to come, I will be sharing rips of some great-looking records I scored in Tokyo. I also got a lot of old weird japanese pop stuff from the bargain bin at punk store NAT Records in Shinjuku (Shinmei Building 2F, 7-33 Nishi-Shinjuku, Tokyo 160), but trust me, I made the rounds. This is only about half of the 7-inches that I nabbed, and we’re not even talking about all the magazines, comix and CDs. Just what I needed! (Sarcasm.) However, your gain is my loss, or will be, or something.
Anyway, I’d like to thank all my Tokyo pals for the warm welcome they gave me in spite of my rude ways and Western odor. Shout outs to Onoching, Masami, Wild OX, Terumi, Elizabeth, Mike, Nori, Atchan, Rockin’ Jellybean, Shaku, and all the other cool folks whose names I cannot recall right now. Special thanks to Kazuha for letting me crash in her Nakano manshon, among her literally priceless collection of 1950s porcelain, Funny Face and Weird-Ohs premiums, Sailor Jerry flash art, and her handsome tomcat Sue.
==============================
Miami soul singer George McCrae is mainly known for this monster disco hit from my childhood. 
There’s probably a good “A Star is Born”-style film drama to be drawn from his former romantic/management relationship with his hitmaking ex-wife Gwen McCrae (I like her records, too), but George was there first in 1974, riding the crest of the disco wave with some smooth crossover soul for those of us too young to Hustle. The steady rockin’ backing group is none other than KC’s Sunshine Band!
George is still going strong – check out his rather primitive webpage that makes my browser crash. Read his grandiose bio that, with its superstar hyperbole, deserves an audiobook reading by the guy from J&H Productions! No matter, this is still a great song. Now let me get back to my nihongo benkyo o suru. What? Oh, that’s French, baby. It means, “You are incredible.”
George McCrae – “Rock Your Baby”
George McCrae – “Rock Your Baby (Pt. 2)”
Rick at 7:42 pm
December 30, 2006
Chirp Your Enthusiasm
My friend Miles who introduced me to the Welsh band Budgie always had a theory that they missed out on the sales and success of Black Sabbath (who sometimes had a similar sound – tight but sludgy guitars, falsetto singer – 
and who shared with Budgie the services of legendary producer Rodger Bain) because, looks-wise, Sabbath had medieval castles, graveyards and spooky crosses in their album art, while Budgie went with Roger Dean and that cute li’l parakeet.
In other words, Budgie neglected certain trappings of serious badass-ism (scowling, strutting, shirtlessness and pyrotechnics) in favor of monster rock riffs and finely-crafted psychedelia. Not that they don’t have a loyal following, but when you peer through the coke-bottle lenses of Burke Shelley’s proto-nerdcore spectacles, it’s easy to reach the conclusion that these guys weren’t overly image-conscious. (I mean, look at ‘em. They’re just having fun playing music. That’ll never do.)
Check out this awesome 1973 film of “Breadfan” (a classic tune later covered by some lesser lights) that I bagged from YouTube – sporting better fake-sync sound than yer average 2006 rap video:
(The direct URL is here.)
If you’re not into the hard rock, it can difficult to explain what’s so charming about Budgie. They aren’t over-the-top or chaotic sounding (their songs are sometimes absurdly mannered and precise) or emotionally distraught like metallish bands are “supposed” to sound. They make a “big” noise that somehow seems like it’s trapped in a small, dark room. 
They easily slip into sweet, folksy, pretty interludes – check out “Rolling Home Again” from the second LP, below – that might alienate a few Judas Priest fans (the two bands toured together in the early days). There’s a humble, wry sense of humor in the lyrics that imply it’s not to be taken all that seriously.
But man, what riffage! (Sorry, you have to use terms like that when you’re writing about this stuff.) When guitar demigod Tony Bourge starts chugging out one of his stadium-ready hooks, and drummer Ray Phillips dictates a slow, heavy groove, it’s too much trouble to fight the rhythm. Go with it. Somehow, the combination just works.
The original three-man lineup of those spry young whippersnappers is now gigging again, and of course they have a website. Marvel at the photos showing how well they’ve physically held up, compared to the shuffling,
jiving walking corpses of most of their contemporaries. Despite my normally strict policy against fogey-rock reunions, I’d definitely go see the ol’ birdies if I got the chance. This band deserved way more than they got.
From Squawk (1972):
Budgie – “Whisky River”
Budgie – “Rolling Home Again”
Budgie – “Hot as a Docker’s Armpit”
Budgie – “Drugstore Woman / Bottled”
From Bandolier (1975):
Budgie – “I Can’t See My Feelings / Rock Climbing”
Budgie – “Napoleon Bona-Part One & Two”
Rick at 10:36 pm
September 26, 2006
Some Answers
What kind of father am I? Toe Stubber hit another so-called-writer’s block and allowed so much time to elapse that we didn’t even acknowledge the one year anniversary of TOESTUBBER.COM.
On September 20, 2005 this website was born out of my admiration for a handful of MP3 blogs, a vague fear of getting old, the pleasure of sharing my sweet taste in music and the desire to seem cool. Longtime readers will attest to an initial spurt of posting activity which has steadily dwindled. The last post was over a month ago.
Honestly, I pretty much knew what I was getting into from the beginning. From throughout my abortive DJ period, prior to the site launch, I’d learned not to expect a very rewarding ratio of brainwaves expended to kudos digested. (Thus I try to consider myself a kind of pro bono public defender of good music.) For a while, things were rockin’ – a small group of stubbers had been reading and posting comments and linking and calling me a clever lad. I liked that. But then other factors clogged up the tubes – laziness, depression, isolation, other projects, disorganization, waah waah waaaahh.
Well, I’m back for now. At least you have the incentive to return at least once. I promise that if I haven’t made another post within a week from this one, you have my permission to shoot me in the back of the head, execution-style.
==============================================
When I sit on the toilet and reread this compendium of the first three issues of Jim & Debbie Goad’s Answer Me!, a sort of wistful longing overtakes me. To return to those days when I was innocent in my total cynicism – a time when I (the Elite lord of my apartment) thought that my hard cock and street smarts could really protect me – before I got my heart broken a couple of times.
Because I am a romantic. And sentimental fools soon learn that there’s a really thin line between romantic and stupid. Later on, Jim’s stupid heart got the rest of him thrown in prison for domestic self-defense. There’s plenty of documentation of that sad history here, but I recommend picking up the book first, before you savor the salacious dessert of another human’s misery. Mr. Goad’s clear, witty writing holds up incredibly well, considering all the nonsense that came after. This volume also includes about 60 pages of pure comedy that Goad produced after the demise of AM!
You can get a glossy reprint of the fourth, final and best Answer Me! – the “Rape issue” – from the publisher.
At what turned out to be the waning sunset of the printed ‘zine (I gave up on Panty Line Fever within a year after discovering Answer Me!), Jim and Debbie popped four of these impeccably researched, hilarious, passionate and nearly typo-free bundles of reasoned misanthropy and joy straight out of the moist, fertile vaginas of their minds.
Most of us other zinesters were never this good. What were we thinking, anyway?
=======================================
Congratulations go to former Toe Stubber muse Michelle for recently sharing a room with the U.S. Secretary of State and somehow surviving the overpowering, acrid stench of incompetence.
Dave the Cruse has a new MP3 blog – DIRTYGROOVES – and I can tell you he’s barely scratched the surface of his awesome record collection. Which is good: You don’t want to scratch the surface. It makes the record skip. I can’t believe I have to tell you this. C’mon, put that down.
Champagne just made a double nickel. Much love, cuz.
The Knights of the New Crusade will be touring Central and South America in November.
=======================================
So, until next weekend. Here’s a beautifully sad tune, to give you goosebumps.
Eddie Hinton – “Hard Luck Guy”
Rick at 11:02 pm
August 4, 2006
Screwed Up in the Street
My old pal Squeaky turned me on to Menace a long while back by playing me one of their songs and then pointing out that I already had it on a Link Records 1987 comp called Oi! The Picture Disc. Menace are definitely on the oi end of the punk scale, and their catchiness opened up a whole world of English streetpunk and oi that I’d been ignorant of. 
Later on I got the “Screwed Up” twelve-inch single, and that song has since been a practice staple of every band I’ve played in. Menace’s lack of commercial success must’ve somehow rubbed off.
This awesome band has been blogged before, and probably by better than me, but what the hey. They were part of the 1977 generation of punk bands, yet somehow stayed in the minor leagues (even though John Peel touted them on his show), but were later seen as very influential among the kids (and the aging kids). I wouldn’t know about that, being a johnny-come-late and everything, but I know “G.L.C.” has a fist-friendly, bouncy rhythm that’s just as crowd-pleasing as the best of Sham 69’s stuff. Dig this liberal reworking of Cliff Richard’s hit “The Young Ones” and the poor-but-proud anthem “I Need Nothing.” This is message music, but without a lot of preachifying. The original Menace lineup recorded only eleven great songs before they split up in ‘79.
Vocalist/frontman Morgan Webster had a tuneful, hoarse streetpunk shout that I find supremely satisfying. He apparently died in 1991, perhaps of an O.D., although the internet couldn’t supply me with a credible story.
The original rhythm section of Noel Martin and Charlie Casey has kept the band going through various incarnations over the years. They have a cool website with newer photos and interviews plus some good nostalgic material, and a MySpace page. If you ain’t heard of ‘em, best git y’self told.
Menace – “G.L.C.”
Menace – “The Young Ones”
Menace – “Screwed Up”
Menace – “I Need Nothing”
Rick at 10:57 pm
This is an online diary of awe-inspiring music I've stumbled across. Songs are posted in the hope that others will get turned on to uncommonly great or neglected music, go out and buy the original work if possible, and thereby realize how amazingly cool I am by proxy. Please leave comments to that effect. I will also be putting up strange ephemera and scraps from my vast collection of art and "art." Any song files may be removed from the site after 14 days. Get 'em before then. It's better if you "Save As"/download files to your own drive rather than playing them in your browser. Do not link directly to MP3s; that will just piss me off. ===================== ILLEGAL DISCLAIMER: It is not the intention of the Toe Stubber to violate any legitimate copyrights, get sued, argue with lawyers, or go to jail. If you are the artist of, or the copyright holder for, any musical or artistic work posted here, and wish to have it removed, please contact the Toe Stubber at the following email address: toestubber (at) gmail.com (...insert the "@" symbol in the appropriate place). The Toe Stubber will be happy to de-post such material with haste, even if he secretly thinks you're being a baby about it.
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