February 26, 2006
I’m Rick Hall, I’m Rick Hall
The title of this piece is my own personal theme song, written by lyricist Jessica Mirmak and meant to be sung to the tune of “Three Blind Mice.” And it’s true - I am indeed Rick Hall, but so are a whole fuckload of other people. I googled my name and among the 111,000 results I couldn’t find a single reference to me or my life. That sucks. Even John Doe has more name recognition. Let’s have a look at some of these Rick Hall fuckers who think they’re oh-so-much more important than me. (By the way, I stole this idea from Jim Goad, who is just as much a narcissist as yours truly, but is fortunate enough to have a less common surname.)
Rich Hall, the inoffensive comic from the eighties who did those pizza commercials, doesn’t count. He is a Rich, not a Rick. Let’s maintain some standards, people.
Songwriter/producer Rick Hall is the most famous Rick Hall by far. He is responsible for some of the greatest R&B songs of the sixties plus a lot of other stuff. The Muscle Shoals sound, FAME Studios… that gentleman on the right. I like the guy. He has a nice mustache.
This dude is a blogger working on his correspondence-school B.A. in Church Ministries. He’s the radio host of “Worship Now.” He has lousy taste in music.
Then there’s a fella who’s some kind of bigwig in the video/computer game industry. Since he doesn’t seem to have any direct connection to Grand Theft Auto, Galaga, Katamari Damashii or Pong, I suspect that we don’t have much in common.
This Rick Hall designs urban streetscapes which look rather pleasant.
“Professor Hall is currently writing a book on interest group influence in law making and rule making at the national level.”
Here’s a Vietnam vet who does Civil War reenactments.
This ones’s a Christian who sells eyewear.
This bass-playin’ Rick sports a grey ponytail. “Click on Rick’s bass to enlarge.”
According to the IMDB, four Rick Halls have fancied themselves thespians at one time or another. Here, here and here. This is my listing.
Rick Hall & the Blues Healers play a kind of milk-safe blues that sound a lot like the Saturday Night Live band fronted by Garth Brooks. Maybe I’m just a little cranky ’cause they’re throwing my name around the internet and all.
Now, this dietician clown’s gone too far. Not only has he copped my name, but he’s shaved bald, and therefore looks kind of like me as well. Guess I’m going to have to see a lawyer about trademarking my shiny dome.
Thanks to Google for helping to bleed my ego. Yeah… thanks.
UPDATE 2-27-06: Commenter Sfumato points out the obvious - Moby - who is technically a mere Richard, but also resembles me in a slightly more gay-ass way. Touché, douché.
Rick at 6:46 pm
February 25, 2006
All or Nothing
Previously King Kustom & the Cruisers (The All Leather Stomp Band), parts of them later became the Mofos. Some say they’re still at it. If you don’t know the Hypstrz, then all this dry-sounding Minnesota historical background stuff will give you no hint of the glories I am about to impart. (Even with the aid of Web searches and liner notes and various rumors, the research stage is the most tiresome part of writing. Why can’t I just pull facts out of my ass instead of striving for accuracy?)
The Hypstrz were a 1960s garage revival band, one of the first (this stuff was recorded in 1979). What’s more important, they’re one of the best. After decades of mere mythology, Bomp Records has finally reissued the official Hypstrz releases on one beautiful CD, Live at the Longhorn, and boy, is it. Live, I mean. And fast. With a pounding, hyper attack, the band commences to steamrolling through a loud, crowd-pleasing, drunken dancing set of mostly covers. You can practically smell the fresh sweat being tossed around in the beery heat; don’t slip in that puddle of puke. This is the quintessential party album.
About those groovy covers: A lot of them may seem like dead obvious choices to kids spoiled by unlimited access to Back From the Grave and 2-3 decades of collector-hyped obscurities, but the way these guys rocked the (now standard) ’60s-punk/R&B hits like “96 Tears” and “In the Midnight Hour” - with balls-out, total commitment - leaves no doubt that they were helping invent a new genre. I’m really glad they did.
Check out their version of “I’ll Go Crazy” - it’s like the Hypstrz realized they could never match JB’s Famous Flames in terms of funk or precision, so they just decided to blast their way through. On the skipped beats, it sounds as if the drummer and the guitarist are racing against each other to the finish. (Maybe they were in a hurry not to miss that last call for alcohol.) And the Small Faces‘ “All or Nothing” - whatta kickass song! I hereby deem Minneapolis to be Soul Central.
This girl called the Hypstrz “an American amphetamine version of Dr. Feelgood” and that sounds right to me, except with more bombast… although maybe that’s implied with the amphetamine part, eh? I dunno, it’s been quite a while since I speeded. Does doing speed make you roar like the mighty lion? If so, then go get your meth on, and crank this motherfucker up.
The Hypstrz - “All or Nothing (live)”
The Hypstrz - “I’ll Go Crazy (live)”
The Hypstrz - “96 Tears (live)”
Rick at 7:11 pm
Humor Me, part 4
In keeping with our new Friday tradition (yeah, I’m late) of linking to delectable Web morsels that you may have already tasted years ago, I bring you the following fun facts, clever people and humorous musings. Don’t worry, you can eat it - it’s not stale or anything.
Underdog lady Suzanne Muldowney.
Old, old Seanbaby on Why We’re Sarcastic.
Infomercial god Tom Vu.
There’s no such thing as a good boob job. (NSFW)
The man who invented the internet, Maddox.
And, the Joke of the Week.
Rick at 11:53 am
February 21, 2006
Not All Vampires Suck Blood
When you drive a car in California, you are assumed by the government to be fair game. This means you cease being a human with rights, and become a “revenue source.”
I was on the freeway last October, in my old car which was built with useless old-fashioned shoulder safety straps (they basically work the same way as lashing your spine to the back of your seat with a length of rope, and they won’t stay connected anyway) and no right side mirror.
Not a problem - I use the lap belt, which enables me to turn and lean forward or sideways, basically all the mobility necessary for safe vision when navigating.
A motorcycle cop stopped me, so as to pump up his monthly stats. Not interested in facts about old vehicles or theories regarding the logic of personal responsibilty, this super duper tax agent on wheels wrote me up a citation for being dangerous to myself. After my court date passed (I couldn’t take a day off work, especially when I knew there was zero chance of getting justice in traffic court), I got a threatening notice, and so promptly sent the full $300. Three weeks passed. They finally got around to cashing my check - after they waited to ensure the deadline had passed - so the fine magically doubled. Now I owed another $300. I received a bill from a collection agency. I paid the new amount over the phone along with a hefty $25 Western Union surcharge. (Have I mentioned that I am literally made of money? Yes, wealthy beyond belief, that’s me, pal.)
That last part was three weeks ago. Today I got a cheery note in the mail.
What does all this mean? I can’t figure out if I’m just supposed to kill myself now. Maybe someone with connections in the supreme Soviet bureaucracy can explain how to get these retarded, parasitic slugs out of my life. How? And why? I try to be a good person. I try to mind my own business.
I’m gonna cry now.
Rick at 11:32 pm
February 17, 2006
Humor Me, part 3
Third week, and still no comments about Yoshi’s Jokes. Oh well, I suppose he’ll keep on making you laugh, while you keep making him cry. This week we’ve also got two funny sites via our intellectual German partners (hint: not this guy) at Squirm…
The wacko behind Unremitting Failure packs the best one-liners in blogland, and also once told his employer to “eat a bag of cocks,” which his boss did not do, but it’s still funny.
And elsewhere, I’ll bet you never knew knitwear could be so hilarious. And oddly sexual.
As Yoshikazu-sama would say (through his manly tears - the tears of a clown, when there’s no one around): “You’ve got to follow the funny…” Oh, yeah - that brings us to Yoshi’s Joke of the Week!
Enjoy it.
Rick at 10:01 pm
February 16, 2006
Waddlin’ In
Here I am, always behind the fucking curve even after nature gives me a head start. Even though a couple of my old bands have performed alongside the Spaceshits and Les Sexareenos and I’d met Mark Sultan (a.k.a. BBQ - not to be confused with the video production house) and King Khan (a.k.a. Blacksnake) on more than one occasion and they’ve always been sweet fellows, I haven’t kept up with their projects since, and I’m especially embarrassed about missing the show in L.A. last November due to my aforementioned ignorance.
The duo used to be in Montreal’s Spaceshits together and they teamed up again after Khan moved to Germany. That’s where they put out a record on a kraut label, now reissued in the States. BBQ does solo shows and collaborates with geniuses like Eric Oblivian. Any further info can be obtained on a strict need-to-know basis from Mark’s tidy little website.
The crazed live show, with which they’ve been touring the world for the past year, looks like a twelve-tissue sweaty affair. Apparently, King Khan wears wigs and ladies’ undies and sometimes exposes his man-sac. BBQ plays guitar and drums simultaneously. Check out the amazing videos I stole from the interweb, and try not to hop up and down - I double dares ya!
Seriously, this is really exciting. This music “peppers my face with birdshot,” as the old folks like to say. Ever since I downloaded it on a whim from the excellent Music For Robots, I just can’t get “Waddlin’ Around” out of my head. Write these words down, kid: That song is gonna be big. It’s a chartbreaker! Solid motherfucking gold. It’ll be too popular for the radio, too prestigious for the grammys. My new reviewer’s copy of the album (that I paid for) is currently traveling on its way from Memphis… as should yours be (so pay up). Thank me later.
The King Khan & BBQ Show - “Waddlin’ Around”
The King Khan & BBQ Show - “Hold Me Tight”
And here are the two videos you should immediately save to your hardest drives:
“Fish Fight” (.MOV file, 16.8 mb)
“Pig Pig” (.MPEG file, 20.4 mb)
Rick at 9:39 pm
February 12, 2006
Pumped Up
Sometimes you can’t remember where you first heard a record. The first Sir Lord Baltimore LP is like that for me. It was probably Bruce Merkle or Bill Kamens who played it for me, or it might have been Tom Smith.
This isn’t mere namedropping; it’s good to give credit for acts of kindness.
Anyway, it sure didn’t come out of the radio. I never read the infamous Creem review by pre-Angry Samoans “Metal Mike” Saunders that is said to be “the first known reference to ‘Heavy Metal’ as a musical genre.” By the time I heard ‘em, punk had crashed over the musical landscape and temporarily washed away most traces of unhip stuff like this. Only a small underground of collectors and wackos were interested in the pseudo-classical macho pomp psychedelia of a Sir Lord Baltimore, the consensus being that the world needed all-new rock cliches, or something. I got my copy at the old Venus Records in NYC, before they moved the store to the other side of Astor Place.
Here’s an excellent review of the history of the band and their ridiculously over-the-top heavy rock sound (my only problem is the writer bringing Van Halen into it, ’cause Baltimore shouldn’t be blamed for the lameness of later generations).
This album is proof that “the seventies” actually started in 1969. It’s so ahead of its time; listen to the opening sandpaper guitar belches of “Pumped Up” and imagine how unusual they must’ve sounded even to fans of Hendrix, Blue Cheer or Cream. Maybe some of you old geezers actually heard this when it first came out. What did you think?
The CD reissue - that contains both the indispensible Kingdom Come and the bumbling, dull self-titled followup album - appears to be out of print. Kingdom Come could be seen as its own template for the hard rock LP, a Brooklyn manifesto if you will, including their epic seafaring odyssey “Kingdom Come,” the frantic proto-thrash of “Ain’t Got Hung on You” & “Pumped Up” and even the token harpsichord-heavy ballad, “Lake Isle of Innersfree.” (I love how the title dumbs down the already leaden symbolism of the poem Lake Isle of Innisfree by overexplaining - sort of like redoing “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC and calling your version “You Gave Me Orgasms All Night Long When We Had Sex.”) Through it all, Louis Dambra’s monster guitar riffing and squealing and singing drummer (!) John Garner’s vocal “blues” histrionics and insane drum fills are enough to make the later Grand Funk Railroad look like masters of subtlety and understatement, let alone their more tasteful numbskull contemporaries Led Zeppelin.
To sum up: This record is an absolute must for fans of ripping bonehead rock, dudes growing out their sideburns, smokers of weed and archaeologists interested in primitive cultures. Count me in, too.
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Kingdom Come”
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Helium Head (I Got a Love)”
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Ain’t Got Hung on You”
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Lady of Fire”
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Lake Isle of Innersfree”
Sir Lord Baltimore - “Pumped Up”
Rick at 11:07 am
February 10, 2006
Humor Me, part 2
Another incisive magnum opus is on its way (just as soon as my pretentious-verbiage pills wear off).
In the meanwhile, I believe it’s time for another Yoshi’s Joke of the Week!
Also, click on the photo at left for a hilarious collection of book covers, courtesy of The Wonderful World of Longmire - featuring an extensive and apparently unmaintained message board, judging from the copious dollops of spam all over. That shit grows like mold. Ya know, if I wasn’t such a damn control freak, toestubber.com would be clogged with the leavings of malodorous robots hawking online casinos and erectile disfunction and saying things like “slavering paraffin:outgrows starlet inconveniencing L0W-RATE M0RTGAGE interdiction gelatinous linearized?44!” So, you’re lucky.
Rick at 11:17 pm
February 6, 2006
Odds and Stubs
Instead of a full post, here’s a few quick links… don’t wander too far.
Ginger (not played by Cheri Caffaro) has a C.I.A. Adventure.
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The Forever War on Terrorism is being waged by focused, highly-trained professionals. Thank goodness! Feel safe?
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There’s a dude who makes remote-controlled steam-driven robots (via Memepool).
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Video of the Fall live doing their smash hit bummer song “Smile” (Milli Vanilli style) in 1983 on British TV show The Tube (courtesy of WFMU’s Beware of the Blog).
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Lastly, this is old stuff, came out last year, you’ve probably already seen it - but the Top 10 Most Ridiculous Black Metal Pics of All Time are, by definition, timeless. Great Dark Lord, will you look at these clowns!
Remember, it doesn’t have to be old to be a classic, although I’ve been told I am both.
Rick at 8:32 pm
February 5, 2006
Like a Nosebleed
Xmas was an L.A. band that went by many other names, including but not limited to the Fast Times, the Righteous and Harmonious Fists, the Hott Shotz and Drugs U.S.A.. My personal favorite was when they called themselves the California Ghostbusters.
The group was the brainchild of Joe the singer, and of Watson (also in the Rattlesnakes) - who was sick of being the go-to guy whenever anybody needed a (very good) drummer. 
Although Watson wrote the songs and started out playing guitar in Xmas, he eventually found himself doomed to the misery of the drumkit yet again. Lowell played bass at the same time he was in the Stupor Stars. Joe went on to form and sing with the much more tangible four-piece band One Man Show Live and Lowell co-founded Central City Transmission. Those photos on the right are not really of the band. If you or any of your relatives are pictured there, please contact my attorney.
Xmas never had an official release. That sucks. But thanks to the mp3 revolution, you can now share the beer-piss-flavored magic. Their uber-punk sound could be termed “screamo without the emo.” Start with the speaker-shredding “Nosebleed Blues” - definitely the A-side, in my opinion. In the words of Lowell: “Hands up for rock’n'roll, assholes!”
Rick at 11:26 am
February 3, 2006
Humor Me, part 1
Laughter is my anti-drug. That, plus some really fucking good drugs.
Thanks to Chris and Yoshi. Also, Patton’s puppy.
…It’s Yoshi’s Joke of the Week! (MP3)
Rick at 8:55 pm
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