October 30, 2005
Myopic Void
Thanks to all the swell guys and gals who have been posting commentary and helping to keep this rig on the road. I’m sure it’s not only because of my incessant begging. (But please, no more Anton Newcombe quotes. Our servers can’t handle all the negativity.) Welcome to all the new MySpace customers; don’t forget to hang your hat in the comments section.
The classic first Captain Beyond album on Capricorn Records has been well remastered and can be purchased here. The cover features a silly painting of a faggy wizard wearing a blouse, and the really collectable LP renders it in one of those 3-D flicker editions a la the Stranglers‘ The Raven or the Stones‘ Their Satanic Majesty’s Request. Either way, it’s easy to see why many folks passed by this record upon first encounter.
If mid-’60s psyche-garage is the sound of teenage greasers discovering drugs for the first time, I read this brand of 1970s psych-y hard rock as the sound of professional hippies finally doing way too much drugs. There’s a similar macho-longhair attitude behind the inarticulate mysticism, almost like they’re bragging about how fucked up they are, dumb and helpless and at the mercy of powerful evil spiritual forces. Anyway, I love it. This album glides effortlessly between kick-ass heavy stadium rock and groovy, jazz-tainted folky rock and the guys are so durned professional, it doesn’t seem forced in any respect. They released a crappy followup LP entitled Sufficiently Breathless, which hardly anybody likes very much.
One story of the band can be found here and there’s a more succinct family-tree history here. Basically, half of the band came outta Iron Butterfly, another 1/4 came from Deep Purple, and drummer Bobby Caldwell had been touring with Johnny Winter. Don’t let any of that stop you - I like Deep Purple okay, but this album blows away those previous projects.
It was hard to select isolated parts from this record, as the tunes on both sides are tracked in long extended rock-opera format, with lots of “intro”-this and “return”-that and Parts I, II, etc. I tried to leave enough context for you, the listener, to get down with. Play it loud.
Thanks to Mr. Bruce Merkle for inviting me out to wintry Warsaw, Indiana and giving me this exquisite record, way back in the day.
Captain Beyond - “Mesmerization Eclipse” (3:45)
Captain Beyond - “Raging River of Fear” (3:45)
Captain Beyond - “Thousand Days of Yesterdays (Intro)” (1:19)
Captain Beyond - “Frozen Over / Thousand Days of Yesterdays (Time Since Come and Gone)” (7:42)
Rick at 4:21 pm
October 26, 2005
Paystub
Okay, I have a reputation as a spelling/grammar nazi. Not the kind of nazi that thinks bad spellers should be rounded up and exterminated; I’m the friendly kind of “nazi,” the kind that thinks it’s okay not to capitalize “nazi,” for example. In general, though, bad English rankles my testicles when it gets in the way of the writer making himself clear.
On my way to and from work, on Hollywood Boulevard, I pass a billboard advertising the Dr. Phil Show. It leaps out among a sea of similarly stupid signs.
“You’ve Got Your Battles.
He’s Got Your Back.”
Fuck this idiot! my mind screams. Is there a slogan more lumpy, more sandbagging to the ear? Unctuous smarm aside, this just reads poorly. Both sentences, on their own, make sense. But together, they make poop. (That last thing is the sort of on-the-one-hand, on-the-other-hand play on words the Dr. Phil people were shooting for; let me demonstrate how they failed.)
“You’ve Got Your Battles.” This is a broad, idiomatic statement. It is abstract, but could be literally true depending on how you define a battle. The “your” is redundant, because everything you’ve “got” is yours by definition, but that’s okay, because this comment is meant to be the kind of nurturing verbal hug you might get from a close friend or analyst/therapist, and certain soft redundancies are poetically pleasing.
Yep - you might say, reading the ad copy from the comfort of your automobile - I sure do have my battles, yes, siree… but what’s that got to do with the mustachio’d bald dude? Continue…
“He’s Got Your Back.”
Dumb.
The expression “having someone’s back” probably originated in the military, and has come to mean protecting a comrade from attacks which he or she can’t see, such as assaults from behind. It could never be literally or even figuratively true - it is an idiom with only one meaning. Although you do indeed possess your battles, the fat doctor does not actually own your back. If you tried to imagine Dr. Phil literally holding your severed spinal column while you stood beside him clutching an armful of battles, you’d end up confused. The slogan would only work if at least one of the literal images it brings forth could resonate. They can’t, because both sayings are separate abstractions that do not complement each other. One is passive, the other is active. They use the verb “to have” in different ways. The only thing the two statements have in common is that a retard paid lots of money to put them in my face.
You may think I’m taking this a bit too seriously. I’m not gonna be a crybaby about it. Sure, there are plenty of badly-written billboards. The crime here is not simply that an ad for an abusive emotional parasite has a bit of a tinny sound. What makes it offensive is that some illiterate copywriter actually thought he/she was being clever by splicing together two clashing idioms, merely because they contain words that are similar. Can you imagine a poor announcer having to read that shit? What inflection could render the proper soothing tone of well-meaning meaninglessness? I guess that’s why they make the big bucks.
When it comes to using down-home turns of phrase in creative, healthy ways, no one beats the country & western genre of music. The dearly departed Johnny Paycheck used to sing a song by the great George Jones with a very clever use of a similar device. It has been known to make me weep.
Johnny Paycheck - “(I’ll Be Over You) When the Grass Grows Over Me” (MP3)
Rick at 12:45 pm
October 24, 2005
A Chorus of Jap Children
Here’s a record I bought, on my Japanese vacation, for 1200 yen:
I watched Ultraman when I was a kid. Not many people know this, but I used to be able to pose on one knee, cross my wrists and shoot laser beams at my enemies. This 7″ has six Ultraman themes, typically a crooning adult male leading a chorus of Nippon waifs to bombastic 1960s pop-martial arrangements, cheesy as can be. I picked three of them for ya.
Ultraman track 1 (MP3)
Ultraman track 2 (MP3)
Ultraman track 6 (MP3)
That last one is a softer version of the theme song I remember from the Ultraman TV show.
This reminds me of one of my most treasured LPs, stolen from me by some psychologically ugly, cold-blooded creature in the 1990s. It was a Japanese collection of soundtrack music for animation shows such as Astroboy, Gigantor and 8-Man. It included super-fine quality stickers and pages of beautiful artwork including frigging schematics for Astroboy! Well, now it’s probably been sold for drugs. Fortunately, I still have one of the best tunes left on a crusty old cassette I’d made long ago. If you can identify the following music, go ahead and rub my nose in it.
Japanese TV theme (MP3)
Rick at 10:30 pm
October 23, 2005
Floating in Formaldehyde
When I was 19 or 20 I moved back to the DC area, after a disastrous attempt to escape to New York by leeching off my girlfriend Nadine’s life savings. I lived in the basement of a group house on North Glebe Road in Arlington, Va with Bruce Merkle, XoXoX (who was dating Bruce’s sister Leslie), Leslie and her kid and many others who came and went. Bruce formed the band Color Anxiety which later morphed into 9353.
Specimen Fred were comprised of RICK (guitar, synth, vocals), XoXoX (synth) and TOM (bass, vocals).
Specimen Fred only ever played two shows. One was an multi-act art terrorism event at DC Space called the FBC Horror Circus, and another time Rick & XoXoX did a dual-synth act opening for 9353.
Penis Surgery at the FBC show (MP3 - 96 seconds)
Rick Rodine was the de facto architect of the band, the promoter (to the extent they ever wanted one) and the person who hand-crafted the individually decorated cassettes that are pretty much Fred’s only physical legacy. I remember visiting Rick in his basement room, getting stoned and listening to the tapes he’d made of himself on guitar, which he’d multi-tracked by playing along with previous recordings, one boombox to another. Rick was very influential among his friends, inventing a strange idiom based on comedy and alienation. He and I collaborated on Fat Bleed Comics and other shit-disturbing flyers and stickers that got distributed by hand to the business-suit class in Arlington, Rosslyn and Northwest DC. (Doing my “research,” I discovered a huge cache of periodicals and flyers by our various friends in my closet. I have no idea to what use to put them.) This carried over into a campaign of cryptic stenciled graffiti messages spraypainted on downtown office buildings. Those perpetrators shall remain nameless. We also used to sneak into abandoned or unguarded sites and climb up tall fire escapes to dilapidated rooftops, among other crimes. Ah, those were the nights.
Most tunes were recorded at FredQuarters, the bright-green-and-dark-purple-painted basement room of Tom’s peculiar mom’s house in ArVa. Though Rick was the prime motivator in the band, it was a real collaboration. Sometimes only two sides of the trio would record (and there were also millions of one-off jams with members of our extended clique).
Often XoXoX (a prodigy who shared my enthusiasm for certain substances) might establish an off-putting, almost non-musical theme on rhythm synthesizer while Tom Crawford (an anti-scenester, very focused guy who mostly liked heavy metal and Killing Joke) laid down an intimate line of precision bass. But there really was no format; the approach may have been technically strict but the product was incredibly varied and largely instrumental. Lack of a drummer forced the band to play it tight. For all I know, Specimen Fred may sound “quaint” to moderner ears, but as an art-damaged young man with a love of Devo, the Residents, Eraserhead and SPK, it all went straight down my piehole without mastication.
Rick is a visual artist living in NYC and Tom has fallen completely off my radar - last I heard he was still married, in Northern Virginia.
After drugs, girls and circumstance conspired to break up Specimen Fred, Rick Rodine joined with Rick Hall, Mike Horsley and Bill Kamens to form the band Rick ‘n’ Mike ‘n’ Bill. There’s lots more history, but I know you’re probably getting bored.
I’ve always dreamed of putting a collection of Specimen Fred material out on vinyl or possibly a limited-run CD, just for the sake of posterity. As you can see, I don’t even know the names of some songs. The members of the group are notoriously averse to promotion - that’s why if you google “Specimen Fred,” this page might be the only relevant result. That’s just a goddamn shame. After you download, post a comment and let me know if you think there’s an audience for this stuff, and then I’ll see what the band’s big-ticket demands are.
Specimen Fred - “Specimen Comes Home”
Specimen Fred - “When You Die”
Specimen Fred - “Yo Pablo”
Specimen Fred - “Another Realization”
Specimen Fred - “Floating in Formaldehyde II”
Specimen Fred - (no title) #23
Specimen Fred - (no title) #37
Specimen Fred - (no title) #35
Specimen Fred - (no title) #25
Specimen Fred - “Those Kids”
Rick at 11:09 pm
October 19, 2005
Possum Corner
Chumpy is an opossum that Balb Kubrox rescued when Chumpy was a baby. She is also a rock star.
TRUE SOUNDS OF CHUMPY:
Chumpy coughs (MP3 - 4 seconds)
Chumpy’s rasp (MP3 - 13 seconds)
Chumpy rasping & coughing (MP3 - 4 seconds)
Chumpy eating (MP3 - 29 seconds)
a cute noise Chumpy makes when she’s dreaming (MP3 - 14 seconds)
Balb edited together a video of baby Chumpy’s more flamboyant stage antics, accompanied by the song “If It Feels Good Do It” by Sloan. It has been thoroughly youth-market tested and is ready for total outlet saturation. Download and watch CHUMPY, THE ROCKUDRAMA…
Ladies & Gentlemen: CHUMPY! (.MOV file, approx. 15.1 MB)
Rick at 11:54 pm
October 16, 2005
I Love Onoching
Let me tell you about my good friend Onoching. He is sometimes referred to as “Assman Ono.” He likes to get drunk and tell loud jokes about shit, assfucking, shit-eating, piss-fucking, eating ass and pretty much all kinds of fucking shit. Basically, everything that involves the anal region is a major part of his art and comedy.
He’s a humble guy. His personality encompasses a distinctly Japanese self-deprecating (and defecating) humor and a deep love of most things American. His religious icons are Bruce Lee, Johnny Thunders and Dee Dee Ramone. He claims to be as old as me, but I’ve never met anyone else who’s kept his mental attitude and physical body so young for so long. (In the world of rock’n'roll, it doesn’t often work that way.)
The Jet Boys, which over the years has featured various Boys and more than one Girl, seems to disband every year or so, to promptly reform with new members, but Assman’s patented Ramone crunch and Thunders-on-78 guitar breaks are always constant and never go out of style. I included the (1994?) Dionysus 45 “I Wanna Die” below because it rocks so uncontrollably, but Jet Boys are still putting out cool records. That website looks like it hasn’t been updated in a while. There’s a very incomplete history and discography here.
His day job is working as a comic artiste and graphic designer. Besides the art he’s made promoting his (and others’) bands, he’s sculpted and painted numerous one-of-a-kind guitars, jackets and toys, and has shown in several Tokyo galleries. His personal website provides more info and lots of pictures. He just released a miniaturized collection of 12 years’ worth of Jet Boys flyers and cartoons. He is devoted to his intelligent and lovely girlfriend, Masami-chan.
Onoching’s latest band venture is called Onanie Machine. That’s オナニーマシーン. Their sound is vintage, fist-in-the-air, anthemic streetpunk, with a peculiar lyrical twist: The song below is “I ♥ オナニー,” or “I Love Onanie, ” which means “I Love Masturbation.” All their songs are apparently about masturbation. Sing along, won’t you?
I took some of the above photos at an Onanie Machine concert in Tokyo last year. Onoching is infamous for rocking sans clothing - I’ve never seen a Jet Boys show where he didn’t get naked, except for a radio station gig at KXLU (and you could kind of tell that he wanted to). As you can see from the pictures, he’s even gotten his bass player into the act. That’s what ya call the power of persuasion. Even offstage, Onoching will use the presence of a camera - or just about any public excuse - to expose his genitals. It’s not a sexual thing or a competitive, macho exhibitionism; he just knows that everyone will find a skinny Japanese fellow showing his bare ass to be inherently hilarious, and he’s right.
So what’s the appeal here for ex-rock’n'rollers like me who hardly ever go to concerts anymore? To me, there’s a kind of spiritual wisdom in Onoching’s fart humor and well-honed innocence. Those crazy antics are an “act,” sure, but they really do come from the heart - rocking, for him, is an end in itself, not just a means. Onoching has a sense of the wildly ridiculous, yet he is utterly sincere. Watching him onstage always makes me smile.
Jet Boys - “I Wanna Die”
Onanie Machine - “I ♥ Onanie”
UPDATE 3:20 pm: David T. leaves a nice comment with a link to loads more photos. Rock on!
Rick at 1:47 am
October 10, 2005
What I Found
The 2001 debut record by Brooklyn’s own The Brought Low snuck up on a lot of people. It’s a rich, soulful masterpiece of hard rock. But how to describe it to you? It’s really difficult to review something in this genre without referring to previous bands from the ’70s or using the phrase “tasty licks.”
Why not just download the songs and let them shovel their way deep into your sub-subconscious pleasure centers?
Ben Smith used to be in the punk/core band Sweet Diesel; Dean “Goddamn” Rispler (bass) was in Kill Fuck Kill, the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black, the Hot Corn Girls and Tiger Mountain. (Dean the studio man also produces, both for bands he’s in and those he’s not a member of - and is responsible for some great-sounding records by the Little Killers, the Shemps, the Candy Snatchers, the Stallions, Bad Wizard and this one.) Nick Heller plays drums like a god: a god who plays rock drums.
Here’s an old interview with Ben that gives a more comprehensive history, if that’s your bag, man.
The s/t Tee Pee Records full-length has been reissued, and can be purchased here or directly from the band here.
After Dean (the guy on the right) departed, the Low have gone through some other personnel and added another guitar. I think Ben’s guitar is perfect on its own and preferred the power trio arrangement for selfish reasons of aesthetic economy, but I have to admit their new boogier direction is quite satisfying as well. Check out their site (complete with mp3s & video clips) and see what you think.
The Brought Low - “Goddamn God Bless”
The Brought Low - “Motherless Sons”
Rick at 11:37 pm
October 9, 2005
Where Is the Love?
Here’s a really good and rather depressing thing a fellow posted last month, about the problem of getting traffic to a music site sorta kinda like this one. The consensus seems to be that begging for links from more popular sites might help. I’m not a tech geek, just a jackoff of various trades… so I don’t have the answer. Various sad, aborted stints as a web-based DJ and rock ‘n’ roll singer have made it obvious to me that this project will impart its own share of burnout, especially since I’m a lazy person by habit, and view myself as chronically uncool, as well.
Anyway, I plan to ignore/accept the fact that these words, pictures and files are getting consumed by only a select few. You, reading this - consider yourself one of the elect. You’re “special.” Just leave a comment to your favorite post, that’s all. For the fuck of Christ. (Comments are the only thing keeping the karma machine running.) The Empire of Heavenly Bliss shall be yours, for at least the next few months.
Rick at 3:21 am
October 5, 2005
You Too Will Die
When I look upon Daniel Johnston’s work, I am filled with a sadness that, I confess, is born of envy. How can one lonely man excel in the fields of music, filmmaking, painting and drawing and still have the energy to indulge in fundie Christianity and long, torturous bouts of manic depression?
Thus it has been for young Daniel, through a series of brilliant cassette tapes he recorded, according to the bio, “on a $59.00 Sanyo mono boom box” in 1983-84, to his so-called discovery in the mid-decade as some sort of street-cred mascot for various lame rock bands and subsequent coronation as the Godfather of Indie Rock (well, it could be worse) complete with obsessive-fan sites and a soon-to-be-released documentary that looks really fucking good.
Anyway… the songs. Here are three of them: stark, funny, chilling, personal and painful. I love this guy.
Daniel Johnston - “Hey Joe” (from Hi, How Are You cassette; reissued on Homestead Records)
Daniel Johnston - “Walking the Cow” (from Hi, How Are You)
Daniel Johnston - “Funeral Home” (live) (from 1990; Shimmy-Disc Records)
Shout-out to Markus from Zurich.
Rick at 10:40 pm
October 1, 2005
Overlooked
All right, I’m a little late to the party here, but this is such an amazing piece of work, it’s best to share. The Tattered Coat gives us the lowdown on Robert Ryang’s reimagined promo for The Shining, one of my favorite movies. If you’ve ever been creeped out by Kubrick’s dark masterpiece, watch the delightfully heartwarming trailer below and those bad ol’ memories will just melt away like snowflakes.
It’s already been passed all around via email and other websites and even received the “gift” of a recent NY Times article. Mr. Ryang has since been approached by men wearing sport jackets, baseball caps, Rolexes and flip flops who’ve been offering him trillion-dollar deals to direct/write/edit the kind of crap the trailer is a parody of. Good for him!
Note: apparently a lot of mainstream sites and douchebags have hotlinked to the trailer at Tattered Coat and Waxy.org. Do the other blogs a favor and download it here so you don’t eat up their bandwidth.
DOWNLOAD TRAILER:
The Shining redux (.mov file).
Thanks to Tej for the hook-up.
Rick at 7:52 pm
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