The great MOSE ALLISON will appear on UK TV screens this coming Friday (20th May) on the BBC's "Later". Trust me, it's worth putting up with Jools Holland for this OK?
Saturday, May 14, 2005
So yeah, Friday 13th, a day generally synonymous with bad things, well not for me…
Southern Culture On The Skids brought good vibes via their salacious, Creedence-kissed surfatronic sounds and to be honest, if I was flush, I’d be on the bloody train to see them in Newcastle tonight also.
They played in the basement club of Oran Mor, a new facility on the corner of Byres and Great Western Road. It’s a cracking venue, great sightlines, a dancefloor(!) and no overbearing security drongos. OK so everybody had to be out by 10.30pm to make way for the disco but even that was handled with some decorum. Let’s hope this catches on. And the crowd, where the hell are all these people when the other to gigs are on. It was a totally mixed audience, all completely up for whatever was going down. It reminded me of a show Ben Vaughn did at Maryhill Community Centre, an off kilter sock-hop kinda deal, a few, too many years ago. Anyways – I’d take going out lessons if I could be assured that people would behave in this disorderly orderly fashion. And Rick Miller reminded me of a cross between Lou Whitney and the aforementioned BV in spirit. He’s a cool rockin’ daddy. Dave Hartman hits those pots and pans bloody had for just being a wee fella and Ms Mary Huff kept the whole undertow shaken and not a little stirred. The sound was fantastic too. What the chuff is wrong with this picture? You reckon I mighta dreamt it? Mickey Primeval reckons it might be a “west end thing”, well whatever – it was sight to hear and behold. It’s not every night you can say you went out and got hit square, goodnaturedly, in the chest by a piece of chicken.
This show was part of BIG BIG COUNTRY the annual celebration of roots music curated by Billy Kelly. He also puts together BIG BIG WORLD in October. Now I wonder if he’d be interested in a certain Croatian Surf (and so much beyond) combo?
In addition to all this, Mr Cruickshank had scored me a gem during his recent retreat to St. Andrews, a place not generally known for it’s services to record hunting. I was graced with a copy of The Jerry Blavatt TV Song Storybook. Saints bleedin’ preserve me. This brings us back to Ben again and I wonder if he’ll ever finish his Geatordoc? It's nearly a year since our shimmy down the Jersey Shore to catch The Geator in his regular habitat and this album brought it all back. The booklet is an unmitigated work of art.
So there you have it troops, it's all good! At least for the next 36 hours or so…
Southern Culture On The Skids brought good vibes via their salacious, Creedence-kissed surfatronic sounds and to be honest, if I was flush, I’d be on the bloody train to see them in Newcastle tonight also.
They played in the basement club of Oran Mor, a new facility on the corner of Byres and Great Western Road. It’s a cracking venue, great sightlines, a dancefloor(!) and no overbearing security drongos. OK so everybody had to be out by 10.30pm to make way for the disco but even that was handled with some decorum. Let’s hope this catches on. And the crowd, where the hell are all these people when the other to gigs are on. It was a totally mixed audience, all completely up for whatever was going down. It reminded me of a show Ben Vaughn did at Maryhill Community Centre, an off kilter sock-hop kinda deal, a few, too many years ago. Anyways – I’d take going out lessons if I could be assured that people would behave in this disorderly orderly fashion. And Rick Miller reminded me of a cross between Lou Whitney and the aforementioned BV in spirit. He’s a cool rockin’ daddy. Dave Hartman hits those pots and pans bloody had for just being a wee fella and Ms Mary Huff kept the whole undertow shaken and not a little stirred. The sound was fantastic too. What the chuff is wrong with this picture? You reckon I mighta dreamt it? Mickey Primeval reckons it might be a “west end thing”, well whatever – it was sight to hear and behold. It’s not every night you can say you went out and got hit square, goodnaturedly, in the chest by a piece of chicken.
This show was part of BIG BIG COUNTRY the annual celebration of roots music curated by Billy Kelly. He also puts together BIG BIG WORLD in October. Now I wonder if he’d be interested in a certain Croatian Surf (and so much beyond) combo?
In addition to all this, Mr Cruickshank had scored me a gem during his recent retreat to St. Andrews, a place not generally known for it’s services to record hunting. I was graced with a copy of The Jerry Blavatt TV Song Storybook. Saints bleedin’ preserve me. This brings us back to Ben again and I wonder if he’ll ever finish his Geatordoc? It's nearly a year since our shimmy down the Jersey Shore to catch The Geator in his regular habitat and this album brought it all back. The booklet is an unmitigated work of art.
So there you have it troops, it's all good! At least for the next 36 hours or so…
From Ms Teresa on the East Coast...
"Being an ageing tragic Punk rock tart is hard enough as it is, what with worrying about my blond roots, can't find fishnets to fit, spike heels done be hurt my feets, mens looks too old... I still look at 20 year old boys out of my eyes the same way I did 25 years ago... But they look back like "what? she ain't Grandma, but she interestin', but I ain't bitin'"... So, whatever, I had to go see The New York Dolls at The Trocadero in Philadelphia tonight. My favorite was to see and smell the beerstrown floor full of cigs and girrls in platforms a fishnets...
My friend Marty Thau, who was their first manager, could not be there with me, so I stood outside and sold his ticket and that was sad in its own way, I wanted him there with me to see the show...
I got there just in time to get a good position next to the soundstage... I knew better than to start drinking because the drinking and driving laws are just too intense anymore...The opening band "The Union Dead", had finished... Missed them, but heard them on line earlier at home... Good, Philly based Rock band... Called Marty, good timeing, just as Dolls came on... "Looking for a Kiss"... "Hohummm" I said... My thoughts were myriad, well I am here because this is historical, well, I am here because of Marty, well, I am here because you have waited 25 years to see this legendary band, maybe nothing phases you anymore, maybe you ARE old and maybe you ARE jaded...But as these thoughts went through my mind, I said "Please Good Lord of Rock and Roll, let me get down tonight, and let not my ticket price be wasted"... And The Dolls went though four good songs but I did not have the vision... So, I sauntered upstairs in me Punkrock Charles Jourdans to have me a smoke and get me a $6 plastic cup of red vino... I finished me smoke and sat on the riser as The Dolls started to hit the crescendo... They played "Trash", then "Jet Boy", then "Personality Crisis"... I WAS BLOWN AWAY... The audience went plum crazy... I had not seen such insanity since The Sex Pistols in Atlanta... Since The Clash/Suicide tour in England...
These boys have their chops down for days... Sylvain is a master on the guitar, as always... David a showman of showmen... Went to the bar after and talked to boys that had driven 3 hours from upstate Pennsylvania to see the Dolls for the first time. I say boys, not boys, 45 year old men, and they bought the tshirts... Legends are legends... Are legends... And... You know what?... A few years ago I made fun of bands that came back... HaHaHa the Dinosaurs... EAT MY WORDS... That is crap on a paper plate... If you can make music that resonates to your people... Make it... Did anyone tell BB King to shut up?... Muddy Waters???....Bonnie Raitt??... Aretha??... The Dolls proved that not only can they still prove their chops, they can do it with those dead and gone and preserve the memory... Signin'... Made it home for sure... In a Taxi...Feets don't hurt me now..."
"Being an ageing tragic Punk rock tart is hard enough as it is, what with worrying about my blond roots, can't find fishnets to fit, spike heels done be hurt my feets, mens looks too old... I still look at 20 year old boys out of my eyes the same way I did 25 years ago... But they look back like "what? she ain't Grandma, but she interestin', but I ain't bitin'"... So, whatever, I had to go see The New York Dolls at The Trocadero in Philadelphia tonight. My favorite was to see and smell the beerstrown floor full of cigs and girrls in platforms a fishnets...
My friend Marty Thau, who was their first manager, could not be there with me, so I stood outside and sold his ticket and that was sad in its own way, I wanted him there with me to see the show...
I got there just in time to get a good position next to the soundstage... I knew better than to start drinking because the drinking and driving laws are just too intense anymore...The opening band "The Union Dead", had finished... Missed them, but heard them on line earlier at home... Good, Philly based Rock band... Called Marty, good timeing, just as Dolls came on... "Looking for a Kiss"... "Hohummm" I said... My thoughts were myriad, well I am here because this is historical, well, I am here because of Marty, well, I am here because you have waited 25 years to see this legendary band, maybe nothing phases you anymore, maybe you ARE old and maybe you ARE jaded...But as these thoughts went through my mind, I said "Please Good Lord of Rock and Roll, let me get down tonight, and let not my ticket price be wasted"... And The Dolls went though four good songs but I did not have the vision... So, I sauntered upstairs in me Punkrock Charles Jourdans to have me a smoke and get me a $6 plastic cup of red vino... I finished me smoke and sat on the riser as The Dolls started to hit the crescendo... They played "Trash", then "Jet Boy", then "Personality Crisis"... I WAS BLOWN AWAY... The audience went plum crazy... I had not seen such insanity since The Sex Pistols in Atlanta... Since The Clash/Suicide tour in England...
These boys have their chops down for days... Sylvain is a master on the guitar, as always... David a showman of showmen... Went to the bar after and talked to boys that had driven 3 hours from upstate Pennsylvania to see the Dolls for the first time. I say boys, not boys, 45 year old men, and they bought the tshirts... Legends are legends... Are legends... And... You know what?... A few years ago I made fun of bands that came back... HaHaHa the Dinosaurs... EAT MY WORDS... That is crap on a paper plate... If you can make music that resonates to your people... Make it... Did anyone tell BB King to shut up?... Muddy Waters???....Bonnie Raitt??... Aretha??... The Dolls proved that not only can they still prove their chops, they can do it with those dead and gone and preserve the memory... Signin'... Made it home for sure... In a Taxi...Feets don't hurt me now..."
Another week down and not a moment too soon. So far I'm managing to keep a lid on the crap so that's something. Now more than ever, I can't suffer egocentric tossers gladly or in any other fashion 'cept their napper on a stick. But I digress, Friday the 13th 2005 was a good day all tolled. A full report comin' up later...
Whist on the Tesco run this morning, I saw a poster which said "Community Fete - May 14th", er, today. Then it hit me, at this time, exactly 29 years ago myself and my cronies took ourselves to London to see Kiss. On the same day, Scotland beat England at football and we heckled the support act Stray with witty one liners like "2 - 1, 2 - 1". "Fack off" replied the frontguy in ironic master of wit and repartee mode. Oh how we laughed. Anyway prior to this, we had collectively scoured the capital looking for copies of a very special record. It was hard to find because Nick Kent had lit the blue touch paper on the Thursday before. Even although it was a pricey import, this platter was in demand. After covering many miles, we tracked just two copies down to Harlequin in Dean Street. That meant three of our patrol had to do without. Can't remember how we sorted out who was gonna have them but we did and I bagged one of them. The other was snaffled by my long, gone compatriot Jack Seath (who may well be hangin' out with Joe as I tap). Anyway - the disc in question sported a now iconic photo by one Roberta Bayley, can you guess what it was yet?
Whist on the Tesco run this morning, I saw a poster which said "Community Fete - May 14th", er, today. Then it hit me, at this time, exactly 29 years ago myself and my cronies took ourselves to London to see Kiss. On the same day, Scotland beat England at football and we heckled the support act Stray with witty one liners like "2 - 1, 2 - 1". "Fack off" replied the frontguy in ironic master of wit and repartee mode. Oh how we laughed. Anyway prior to this, we had collectively scoured the capital looking for copies of a very special record. It was hard to find because Nick Kent had lit the blue touch paper on the Thursday before. Even although it was a pricey import, this platter was in demand. After covering many miles, we tracked just two copies down to Harlequin in Dean Street. That meant three of our patrol had to do without. Can't remember how we sorted out who was gonna have them but we did and I bagged one of them. The other was snaffled by my long, gone compatriot Jack Seath (who may well be hangin' out with Joe as I tap). Anyway - the disc in question sported a now iconic photo by one Roberta Bayley, can you guess what it was yet?
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