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

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)

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.

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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)”

To balm those injured feelings, enjoy this tune from Canada’s Del-Gators. It’s taken from the 2001 Pound Down! CD on Sympathy; the band featured King Khan’s cute sister Cocobutter Khan as well as other garage royalty. While you listen, picture me soaking in a sento bath. Don’t worry, there will be photos.

The Del-Gators - “Move Mr. Man”

If, after that, you need to cleanse your mental palate (and who could blame you?), simply click on Marilyn Maxwell’s dreamy face on the right and watch the delightful 1942 short “Dreamsville, Ohio” starring Charles “Buddy” Rogers and Biff Morgan & his Cats.

Finally, more audio hilarity in the form of the legendary Bacon & Eggs Watch call - by a brilliant chain-jerk who sometimes went by the names Persimmon or Peach, and her unnamed boyfriend/husband. This epic bit of nonsense takes us back to the sad historical period when the Swatch company had a Beanie Baby-like buyer’s frenzy going on the collectables market. (Yep, that’s how I achieved my millions.) Answering an ad by an enterprising young couple who are hawking the newest limited-edition breakfast-themed Swatch timepiece, phone-sex veteran Persimmon and her amoral partner spend a half hour playing the speculators like a double bass, dragging them through improbable deals, lesbian come-ons, tears, insinuendos, bizarre Tourettes-style outbursts (”take the rose out of your ass!”) and escalating accusations of sexual impropriety. We promised this mp3 to ol’ Berliner chum Wi11iam13 a couple of weeks back, so here.

For the next couple of weeks I’ll be preparing for a 10-day visit to Tokyo, home to a few Toe Stubber fans, where I will be open to offers of food, sex or future employment. You can’t miss me. Fiery red hair. I’ll be wearing a dashiki.

Persimmon & Husband - Bacon and Eggs Watch call

Meet “Lou Merkert.” I was introduced to his (only?) work via a cassette procured in the early 1990s from John Trubee, a fellow who did a lot to popularize the medium in those years before the Jerky Boys killed the golden goose. Webpages from this guy and this guy could be a good place to start if you want some primary sources.

This audio clip is very much worth your while. Granted, if you don’t find Lou’s schtick immediately entralling, you might not be the target audience for the full 18 minutes twenty. As for me, the uncomfortably chummy, nasal timbre of his voice revives childhood memories of distant hillbilly relatives back in Virginia, W.Va., Ohio and Maryland. I can smell the secondhand Tareyton smoke, hideous bourbon, leftover Hut pizza and greasy thigh cream.

A question that usually comes to mind when people first hear this tape is “How did he get her number? Do they know each other?” Given the angle of attack, I always imagined them only distantly acquainted; in my mind, Shelly somehow screwed over a pal of Lou’s, arousing in Lou a desire to see justice done in the most perverse way possible - by wasting her valuable time.

Marvel at the methodical way Lou introduces the facts of his situation bit by bit until the whole horrifying portrait emerges. And how Shelly entertains the most outlandish negotiations - so long as Lou’s holding out the possibility of a cushy infomercial gig. See, he’s a dealmaker. Does that disgust you?

“Lou Merkert” - Homebound call

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UPDATE: Incidentally, anybody who I haven’t already harassed can now view my Academy ® -acclaimed star turn in Steve Hadden’s cinematic masterpiece Feces For the Fuhrer. I’m the guy getting pissed on and electrocuted. Typecasting, y’know.

Let’s see… Whoa. Six weeks since my last post of any literary substance! S’pose it’s time to type some words again. And just so’s you don’t call me shiftless, here are some curious videos I uploaded to YouTube: douzo. I’ve also been spending my listening time on certain popular artists (like Cat Stevens) it might’ve been inadvisable to post about, given the current confused copyright climate (How’s that for an excuse? It’s all the fault of lawyers). Finally, in other Internet news, you can click on that right photo of the Goddess Bunny for additional pictures captured on my recent travels, proving that a hipster’s life is bigger than bloggery.

Upon first listen, this 1995 Blag Dahlia EP with Tania Hearst on the cover entitled Venus With Arms is not as good as the best of the Dwarves‘ albums. Apparently this was released during a two-year period when the actual Dwarves band was temporarily nonexistent due to drugs and some silly shenanigans with their record company; I wasn’t paying attention at the time. Anyhow, I was just about to chuck this CD into the trading pool when I played the fifth and last song, and suddenly my dick got hard. “Theme From the Vicelords” contains all the most lovable elements of the Dwarves: short, loud, filthy and fast, clever lyrics from the perspective of a self-described loser asshole, over-the-edge macho posturing with a sense of its own ridiculousness, anthemic chaos and Blag’s high-energy sneer - topped off with a completely retarded guitar phase-shifter siren sound in the second half. That’s comedy, my friend. I also dig the wooden Streets of San Francisco-style voiceover intro.

Sure, not everyone agrees with this assessment, but that’s why I have this bully pulpit - to bully you with my personal opinions. Let me point out that this is my second post in two months with the phrase “Fuck Up” in the title.

“Everywhere that we go / Everybody knows / You only can trust us / As far as you can throw…” Sing along with me, dammit.

Blag Dahlia - “Theme From the Vicelords”

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”