I’m truly sick of getting news of people passing away. Their proximity to my age is a factor. Sure. Artie was 8 years older than me. When I was living it up in Spain, I got the news that Prof my old mucker from Tyneside had left the theatre.  No doubt, something else will happen and someone else will be taken in if not exactly their prime, way too fucking early.

So this coming Thursday night, in a certain bar on Tres Cruces in Mad-town. Mahou’s will be lifted in honour of our fallen comrade Arturo Vega who not only designed the greatest, most enduring logo but he made The Ramones possible. He and Monte facilitated their place in the firmament. God knows where those guys would have wound up if it wasn’t for their role.

I can’t claim to have known Arturo well but we met on many occasions where he took care of business as only he could. It’s a sad day for rock’n’roll because there’s one less guy around that made a difference. His spirit will endure though. Through everybody he met. Strangely, my last encounter with him involved my trying to get a print of a shot he took of Joey wearing his NBT shirt, the one in the anthology book. Then just last week when another shot appeared on facebook, I was eager to prove it wasn’t one of Artie’s. He came up in the “conversation” then bam – I get a message from Kevin with the news.

Memo to the Reaper... enough with the collection of good souls lately. Give it a rest for a while or maybe concentrate on the bastards that deserve to be scooped up.

Come see The A-Bones on Thursday and hoist a glass.

RIP - Arturo Vega

My condolences to his family and friends.

My thanks to Brother Jon for the heads up on this happening!

The twang is back. Oh, I know there are a host of approximations but I’m talking about THAT twang. The twang the Del-Lords perfected back there awhile. Around the time of the “Great Roots Rock Scare” that Lou Whitney has been known to comment upon. Y’see this twang has a groove, it has a sense of purpose. It’s not there to try and take the strain on a song that might not exactly be up to scratch. And nor would it require to be because Scott Kempner doesn’t deal in so-so.

“Elvis Club” is the sound of a band making a record to please themselves, because it was time. Whatever wrought them asunder at the time is water under the proverbial. In some ways it’s a logical follow up to “Lovers Who Wander”. It was understated in many ways and it never got the head of steam it deserved at the time. Three-quarters of the original band have reported for duty so that makes it more than just another run around the block.

As “When The Drugs Kick In”, kicks in – all you want to do is find out when they’re playing and trying to figure out how you might get there. It’s a hit in as much as it pretty much sets out the stall. Eric Ambel knows how the band should sound and as he takes the vocal on “Flying”, it’s clear that there’s a sense that they know that they’re doing it for us. And for those who have yet to discover this combo. The trick is going to be in connecting the two. There are some east coast US shows on the immediate horizon but the big news is that they’re headed for Europe in October/November. The UK is included even although we don’t really deserve to be.

If there’s one obvious shift in gear here then perhaps it’s toward a blues notion here and there in relation to pace. This could just be a natural thing in relation to age. The fact that there is a new Del Lords album at all is cause for celebration. The fact that it cuts it is even better. Sometimes Scott sounds a little like Joe Strummer, like on “Letter (Unmailed)”, perhaps that’ll help a few more people get the memo. In my opinion, Kempner has always been head and shoulders above that guy – or any of his bands including The Cl*sh. I met someone else recently who thought “Give ‘em Enough Rope” was their best record and we all know why that is... ha ha.

But I digress, we gather here to give thanks that The Del Lords are alive, kicking and heading in this direction. “Elvis Club” is brought to you by GB music, go enlist.

Two volumes of demos and rare, unreleased gear are also due to be made available in the near future. Details here.

It was a massive honour to return to Madrid last weekend to attend the wedding of my dear friends Francisco and Ruth. Nobody here will be unaware of how much I thrive on visiting that place or my tireless evangelism in trying to get people to go there, to experience the experience for themselves. So I hit the city running and pretty much never let up. A nonstop whirl with great, great people. Basking in the company of “weel ken’t” amigos and others I was just meeting for the first time.

The shindig took place at Templo Del Gato – “A California Music Bar” where the primo couple met. Calling the TDG that is to hide its light under the proverbial bushel. The scope of music is wide and deep but it’s all good. Cracking joint. After a sumptuous meal at Cuidad De Tui, a reconnaissance squad headed over there to check it out and stayed until chucking out time.

The night wasn’t quite over though and after considerable arm twisting (not) I cajoled mi amigo and Hi-Riser, Todd Bradley of Rochester NY to join me at the one and only Wurlitzer Ballroom. We left there pretty late but it marked my return to the city that truly never sleeps except for a wee afternoon siesta here and there.

Up bright(ish) and early for breakfast and out into the air. The weather had taken a turn for how it is at home so there was some shower-dodging. Took the day pretty easy and by the time it was time to head toward the wedding all the cobwebs had been dispatched. Ms Laura introduced me to a cracking wee local haunt for an aperitif or 3. There had been a big football game the night before and some excitable fans added colour to our experience. They were taking photos of the scenes on TV. !?  Bless.

We arrived at the party hq, met up with everybody and proceeded to have a damn fine time until closing. Once again, all roads – for 4 of us at least, led to Wurlitzer and we left that hallowed portal around 6.30am. My plan of getting a slice of pizza on the way back to the hotel was thwarted by a pincer movement of hookers on what Brother J calls Calle De Cho Cho (Right BB?). The only proposition I was really interested in was topped with pepperoni at that juncture. Anyway, it was a fine night with much quaffing and dancing and good natured rowdiness.

And the band wasn’t just any old combo... I always liked the Hi-Risers records but the live experience is so much more. Belonging to the lineage of your NRBQ/Skeletons timeless American music axis, their grasp on finite pop that is more dna than roots. That US twist on anglophilia that boots it back overseas with a damn sight less starch or chin-stroking. This ain’t a formula, it’s a heart and soul with kitchen sink mission. The addition of Jose (El Niño) Bruno from Spain invigorates the sound yet further and this was his first “show”. It was a gas being able to spend time with Greg and Todd, talking about how their first band had their first show opening for New Math and how the Rt Hon. Duane Sherwood was the Technician at their school.

So anyways, Sunday was a little hazy but I had to be compos mentis to meet up with Sir Marco Padin of that fine imprint known as Ghost Highway Recordings. He specialises in high quality gear and has to date put out 63 releases in a very short space of time. Check out his wares here. Another cool wee hostelry was found to hang in and that’s exactly what we did. Was supposed to maybe go see Spectrum at El Sol but ended up having dinner at a place recommended by the lady on reception at the hotel. It looked swanky and it was but it wasn’t expensive.

And then we were back in the Wurli. It was quiet and Inigo and Pedro Temboury, a man that was familiar with my output over the years and a friend showed up. That was pretty crazy but big fun. Pedro is a film-maker and I just watched a short piece called Psycho-Lettes that is not for the faint of heart. I'll post the link here after I have a look at some more of his screen antics.

Which left the last day to meet Ms Marcela, head over to Munster, see Helena, Alvaro and Benito in a non-W environment and then hang with La Hembra Alfa for a bit. She took me to La Buena Vida, a great bookshop with a wee bar that serves Pacharán then off for some old school tapas in the form of Spanish omelette and callos at a "bar de viejo". The texture of the latter wasn’t doing it for me though but I dug the Jay Z’s (wee tumblers of beer). They’re actually called “cana’s” but that’s close to Kanye, right? And voila you got some distant urban connection slang. At least on my telly. And they're very easy to "caw" back.

My Rochester friends and I retired to the place we’d made our local and had two or three for the road. And then it was nearly time to leave the magic city but not before meeting Ulla for our customary morning coffee. Soon it was time to head for the hangar and thusly back into the jaws of reality. Absolutely cream-crackered, I bid Mad-Town adios for the time being but I shall return. And soon but I don’t want to be wearing out my welcome...

And after a stint at the day prison, the following evening found me in Auld Reekie – some considerable distance from my preferred “Kansas”. No “Carry On My Wayward Son” jokes please...

It wasn’t Chrysta Bell’s fault that I was suffering from Mad-lag and I should have given into the voices from the sofa but in the tradition of not wanting to miss anything I soldiered through. If it had been a little more concise, the show may have made more of an impression but as it was all based on that familiar bump and grind of Lynch soundtracks. The starter was a ringer for “Pink Room” and the lord knows there’s nowt intrinsically wrong with that. This operatic blues with a burlesque tick works pretty well. The location was perfect and so was the sound for the most part.

She plays out her part very well and of course, this lady would be a far more sound role model for youngsters that that caterwauling Florence bisom. Being that she sounds like a bunch of owls that are not what they seem. The music undulates like it should but the songs just don’t really rise to the atmosphere.  I was surprised that the show wasn’t totally sold out but really couldn’t hack the guy who opened with his laptop making soundscape type approximations. According to Mr D’uff, the encore was the crowning glory but I’d already left for the train. Thinking this was really more Wild palms that Twin Peaks but maybe her LA configuration is the cause of that.

Mr Lynch considers Ms Bell a songbird and at this point I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. I’d like to hear more substance shine through the inherent style though.

Here’s a clip, see for yourself...

Francisco + Ruth / Greg + Todd shots – from the Ruth López-Diéguez collection

Mahou shot by Laura García-Cuerva

Ready for the road this summer?  Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co. is the accessory you need to start the season right!

*THURSDAY, MAY 30th / OTTO'S SHRUNKEN HEAD /
538 East 14th Street (just west of Avenue B) in Manhattan / Returning for our monthly dose! /
8:00 sharp 'til 10:00 / No cover /

And, next stop...

*WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12th / RODEO BAR /
375 Third Avenue (at the corner of 27th Street) in Manhattan / A trifecta of sets, from 9:00 sharp 'til midnight / No cover! /

Always yours, Michael
Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co.
"Ballads, Boogies & Blues"

Ross Nelson @ Dig It Up II – Enmore Theatre & surrounds,
Sydney, Sunday 21st April 2013

More kicks! The Hoodoo Gurus and Feel Presents bestowed upon us another day of rock ‘n’ roll thrills for which all who attended will be eternally grateful. Last year’s knees-up was such a hoot that the excitement and anticipation preceding Round 2 was undeniable.

And so to roll call…

The Enmore hosted the main stage and to open proceedings we got Tumbleweed. Australia’s genuine stoner-rock heroes of the 90’s and Waterfront Records stars are back in action. A good choice to open the show, with a solid mix of new tunes and hits, they cleared the eardrums nicely.

I’d wanted to see Peter Case for many years. The former Nerve, Plimsouls leader and long-term folk/roots rock troubadour has a clutch of wonderful songs to his credit so we got a suitably mixed set. Soaring heights were scaled by “How Long Will it Take” and “A Million Miles Away”.

Many of the thrills were away from the main arena… A personal highlight was the Frowning Clouds set in the Sly Fox Hotel. No longer the purist r’n’b/ Stones/ garage hybrid of a couple of years back, they now seem to have embraced a much broader and wilder palette of sounds and influences while maintaining the essence of what made them great in the first place. A wonderful 45 minutes.

At the same venue, Bloods, a three-piece with two girls up front on guitar and bass and a guy holding down the backbeat, have an exuberant presence and deliver a really fun, primal rockin’ set. They have the chops, the songs and the delivery and were a surprise highlight.

Kim Salmon and Leanne Cowie were incredible. Kim is the scuzz-king of rock and delivered a performance for the ages. Damn loud and absolutely wild, they delivered material from across the Scientists catalogue, including ”Frantic Romantic”, “Swampland” and loads more first-rate stuff.

The Laurels created some beautiful sonic landscapes with an over-driven guitar sound, washes of feedback and effects to colour their music. Another winner.

 

Meanwhile, back in the Enmore Theatre, The Lime Spiders delivered a solid set of covers and originals though it was all a tad hard rock and not enough wild fuzzy abandon for me.

Having seen only the mid-80’s version of the Groovies back in ’86 I was super excited to have the opportunity of seeing them again, 27 years later, but this time with the nucleus of the classic 70’s line-up – Chris Wilson joining mainstays Cyril Jordan and George Alexander. They didn’t really get groovy until the opening notes of “You Tore Me Down” more than halfway through their set but that was glorious and between this and the much anticipated and duly delivered closer, “Shake Some Action”, we got moments to treasure.

Amongst a few other acts playing away from the main stage that I regrettably missed, I also somehow didn’t get to see any of Blue Oyster Cult's show. Reports indicated it was a mixed bag of sonic, rockist splendour and some Toto-esque moments.

And so to our hosts, the Gurus. Last year, despite playing all of “Stoneage Romeos”, I thought their set was lacking something in delivery and sound. This time we got “Mars Needs Guitars” followed by a selection of their super hits and they hit all the sweet spots. Brad Shepherd was the guitar hero and his riffs and solos were spiky and note-perfect. And Dave, Mark and Rick delivered with gusto. It was a great performance and the perfect finale. An encore of “Teenage Head” with Cyril and Chris was a nice way to send us home.

Another huge day of big fun. Bring on Dig It Up 3.

Flamin Groovies – Annandale Hotel, Tue 23 April 2013

The Groovies side-show on the Tuesday following Dig It Up was ace!

A bit messy at times, but with more than enough stellar highs to compensate for the minor shortcomings, and an amazing set-list.  Cyril, Chris, George, and Victor Penalosa on drums, delivered the set we were all waiting for. It started with Cyril breaking a string during the opening “She Said Yeah” and having to leave the stage to change it. Chris stepped up and filled the void with a beautiful solo Chimes of Freedom. There was a camaraderie between Cyril and Chris that wasn’t evident at Dig It Up – it was genuinely heart-warming to see them joking and exchanging banter. “You Tore Me Down” was perfect, their “Feel A Whole Better” same again. “Yes I Am”, “I Can’t Hide”, “I Want You Bad”, “Don’t You Lie to Me”, “Between the Lines”, “Let It Rock”, “Slow Death”, “Married Woman”, “Tallahassie Lassie", a sublime “First Plane Home” and ultimately, “Shake Some Action”. It was all too much. All going to plan they’ll be playing shows in the UK and Europe mid-year with new songs to be rolled out. 

Them Flamin Groovies are back in action! Don’t miss ‘em!

Thanks to Ross for the report and the photos

Really peeved I can't make this but maybe you can?

The Yum Yums have ventured far from “Whatever Rhymes With Baby”. Don’t let the title, “The Yum Yums play Good Music” fool you. This is almost a punk pop opera concept. It may also be the most upbeat breakup album of all time.

My first encounter with “Rhymes” as the Quattromobile hit them Madrid city limits is as crystal clear now as it was then. It set me on a certain course that when combined actually seeing them at El Sol was a revelation. Ha ha, the first time I met Vibeke, she thought I was Tim Cross...  but anyway.

Let’s get with the matters in hand. In addition to the lyrical letting loose, the old bubblepunk bombast is intact and that bounces the whole thing away from melancholy with good natured bile if there can be such a thing. The closer of “Bye Bye Baby” however kind of sticks it in and twists. Like a season finale cliff hanger as the long fade out suggests an AM radio classic rock vibe that feels almost mature.

A recent event with regard to the fabric of the band makes me sad but there is a plus, as a young lady in Spain recently pointed out is now that there are two bands. Whilst I understand that positivism, the selfish part of me rankles at the thought of not being able to repeat that life-changing event of October 22^nd 2009 but you know how it is.

CD available on House of Rock/Limited vinyl available from Screaming Apple.

Gimme Söder!

My first gallivant of 2013 took place last week in the fine, fine city of Stockholm. The first time since 2009 thanks to a committee of dear friends that “made me an offer I couldn’t refuse”. It was a rip-roaring reprise that reminded me exactly why I feel I could actually live there. I heard tell of one or two things that seem to be eroding the “system” but it has a long way to fall afore it hits the heady lows of this country. That’s the UK, god knows what’ll happen when the Brigadoon Theme Park opens.

So in terms of social it was a ball. With excellent company straight from the airport arrival gates right the way through to the station platform for the train out.

Hanging out with dear (old as in long time not ancient) friends was largely the order of the day. Eating, a few sherbets, a Mr Ulf record-playing session and some more sherbets was pretty much the short of it. I even did a "tourist thing" with Qina by going to City Hall and had a fine pre-bonfire mutant meatball dinner.

The Nomads show at Södra Teatern with Staffan Hellstrand was pretty amazing. They made an album together called “Pascha Jim’s Dagbook” back in 1996 and this was a live revisitation in a stunning setting. I’d never heard it but this was an ideal introduction. The Stockholm Strings, Fredrick Blank and Idde Schultz completed the line up. It was very Swedish but it really didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand the lyrics. Like Säkert!, the music provides a heart and soul that renders mere words pointless. Very anthemic and almost too big for the room.

I posted a clip the other day so if you scroll down to below this and you can find that and wish you’d been there. Hopefully they'll do it all again in spite of the lukewarm turnout. The people who were there left the theatre buzzing.

The night before I came home, we saw Impo and the Tents with Crusaders of Love in The Cavern in the fine Southside Pub venue. I’d liked the Impo things that Ferdi posted on facebook and while the noise they make is agreeable, the guitar players hat and wife beater (that’s what they call a simmet in rock circles) combo wasn’t happening. They need a stylist.

Them Crusaders however, from Lille in France, flew straight out of the traps. The first 5 songs were as good a debut as I’ve seen in recent memory. Imagine a glammed up Real Kids, these kids looked the part before they even took to the stage. If they swing past anywhere near you then I heartily recommend you dig in. The show was promoted by Thomas Savage’s “Push My Buttons” outfit. A man that’s been doing it for the kids for a while now.

Walking to the subway, we ran into the great Jens Lagergren so that was a very agreeable way to top of the evening. I tottered up and over past Södra Teatern and back to base camp. It had been an intensive few days but cleansing to some degree. And very humbling.

When I’m whining about the day to day bullshit I should perhaps count to 5 and contemplate situations like this. Of course, I’ll still whine but I appreciate it way more than I could ever explain.

And like the troopers they are, my tour management met up for the farewell at Central Station. Possibly to make sure I got on the Arlanda Express and wasn’t still wandering around town, ha ha.

My deep thanks to everyone that pitched in on this project. It means a helluva lot and I hope to repay this amazing gesture down the road apiece.

And to finish a bit of video that the Stockholm Tourist Board should employ and a cracking wee song in the bargain.
 

Of course it pays to advertise -- and Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co. takes to the back pages of Otto's Shrunken Head this week with a free offer!  Now if we could just figure out what "hanky panks" are...
 
*THURSDAY, APRIL 25th / OTTO'S SHRUNKEN HEAD /
538 East 14th Street (just west of Avenue B) in Manhattan / Returning for our monthly dose! / 8:00 sharp 'til 10:00 / No cover

Plus, in other SIT & Die Co. novelties...

*SUNDAY, APRIL 28th / "BROOKLYNBEEFSTEAK" at BELL HOUSE /
The all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink tradition returns to Brooklyn!

*SATURDAY, MAY 11th / "VIVA VAN STORY'S PIN-UP PARTY!" at RODEO BAR /
375 Third Avenue (at the corner of 27th Street) in Manhattan / It's a special pin-up gal contest with our photog pal Viva Van Story! / 10:30 sharp 'til 1:30 / No cover! /

Yours in advertising, Michael

Susquehanna Industrial Tool & Die Co. "Ballads, Boogies & Blues"

RIP - Chrissy Amphlett

Anyone experiencing browser turbulence on this thing? I heard today that it there's a wee problem but it looks OK on the computers I've tried.

This could be a sign that it's time to change the template...

Anyway, after you've recovered from RSD trauma, maybe you could let me know...

Everywhere you go, Record Store Day is getting big licks. The plugs on radio are non-stop and I'd imagine that's firing up all the ebayers. They'll be getting in a lather right now about what they'll make on their booty. I'm not going anywhere near a record store tomorrow but will take up the slack when the shakedown ships out. I will miss the home-baking but them's the breaks. If someone was to start a HBD, the scumhordes would find a way to ruin that too.

So by all means support your local store. Cut along and buy something you want and take in the entertainment that's laid on. Non-specific releases are available too, not just the overpriced "collector" guff but anyway... play nice.

Not often that I get the chance to post a plug for a show in Newfoundland... Them Wrigbys be playing there!

Not available in an over-priced format this coming Saturday... Go Boston!

OK, let’s commence the alternative to that lengthy list of overpriced non-collector’s items. I’ll be flagging up recent acquisitions and also stuff that’s gotten lost in the fog these past few months.

This should be preaching to the converted but on the off chance you haven’t heard Palmyra Delran then I envy you. As rock’n’roll girls with a pedigree go, there are few that are her equal. Her new album “You Are What You Absorb” is chocka with all those frequencies that we here hold dear. Just total pop music of the calibre you’d be justified in thinking they didn’t make any more.

Listen to samples that ought to vindicate my suggestion, if you aren’t moved then go back to your RSD checklist, you deserve to be taken. Sadly it’s unlikely that any actual record store other than a handful on the Eastern seaboard of the USA will have it in stock but this some action that would actually be worth queuing for. In May, denizens of Sweden will be able to score copies when the lady lands in their esteemed country to rip it up as she’s prone to do now and again. One day we’ll get her to the Wurlitzer in Madrid and other joints in Spain that still understand the importance of a top notch tune.

There are twelve of those here waiting for you here so with no further ado cut across to CD Baby and make with the paypal.

Dragging myself out to see “Stoker” turned out to be the wrong decision. It’s not outright awful but its affectations bordering on TV movie leave it floundering. Mostly style, little substance and well, in case you thought there were vampires involved, there are not. Unless you count having your soul sucked out on account of the fairly obvious outcome.

But anyway, it’s a weekend of movies and I’ll be back in the dark this afternoon for something called “Side by Side”. A documentary about the effect that digital cameras have had on film-making. It features several charlatans but also David Lynch.

And in this countdown to the shakedown known as Record Store Day, I’ll try to do something each day on items you might consider buying over the hiked price artefacts. Stores have plenty decent inventory on any given day and its somewhat obscene that they have to dig in to almost non-existent coffers to populate their premises with mostly bogus “collectors” items. Everybody knows that the really great thing about RSD was the home baking anyway. Right?

So yeah, let’s see how this latest intention pans out. This “back to winter” weather leaves room for little else.

Los conciertos de Radio 3 - The Yum Yums

• Los conciertos de Radio 3 - The Yum Yums

One day I'll get accustomed to this new 'puter set up... but until then.

There's a screening of "Last Shop Standing" at the GFT in Glasgow on Sunday 14th April at 7.45pm. Yes, this coming Sunday. It's the Monorail Film Club film for this month to tie in with the Record Store Day bunfight on the following Sunday. Other than The Nomads offerings, I am not partaking in this exercise.

Couldn't get the Del-Lords.com thing to work so get with the Elvis Club vibe here in the meantime...

RIP - Annette Funicello

So far so good. 5 days into April and I've jumped on here every day. Ever since I ceased to be off on a Friday afternoon, it takes longer to get organised. It's shortened the entire weekend experience.

Why in the name of the wee man would anyone pay upward of £100 a pop to see The Stones kick the last vestige of their integrity? That's just for a ticket. No travel, no food, no drinks, no merch. Nada.

Time was when it might have only been "rock'n'roll" but that ship long since sailed.

For much the same price tag, you could fly to Spain. You could see a great band in a fantastic venue with an audience that really knows how to shake it down. Not to be confused with the shakedown that's going on down in the big smoke this summer in any way shape or form.

And talking of the stuff that you can believe in, I need to get blogging about Ms Palmyra's "You Are What You Absorb". Lucky for us, she's been exposed to nothing but choice gear. More about which over the weekend.

It's still winter but at least it's dry. Plus it's nearly Friday and we don't get diddled out of an hour this time. So things are fairly optimistic on the sliding scale. I heard today that those Young Fresh Fellows are heading for Espana in June. I'm currently trying to justify to myself that I should go and further reinforces the urge just to relocate.

Full details when I know the venues, etc. It would be such a hoot!

Ain't all this North K stuff just a wee bit like living in a Team America scenario? I guess if it wasn't potentially serious, it would have been amusing for 5 minutes. Really wish I had the impetus to start the *bay activity I've been threatening. There's bloody stuff everywhere and if I did it could fund my adventures overseas. And before I forget, I'm not doing Record Store Day this year. Other than getting the Nomads release, it's getting the body swerve. Last year's episode soured the whole thing.

A record store isn't just for the third Saturday in April. Leave the "special edition" snaggers with their scores. If you are taking part then buy something that's not on the "official" list. Like everything else, it all started of as a great idea and was quickly hijacked by greedy bastards for "investment" purposes or worse. Your local store will have something you want the before and the day after. And probably the day after that. You folks all know the script.

Here's Team YFF going full steam during their last visit out this way...

BBC listeners have recently voted some record by Coldplay as their favourite album of all time. That was a statement I saw on the news today. Hmmm, news. I’m not sure that I’d call it that. What a searing indictment on a nation that is. But as the de-evolution of the UK progresses it’s not entirely surprising. Nor is it disappointment, because being in a permanent state of low expectation nullifies that. Remember the adage “Guilty until proven innocent”. That’s something of the rule to any probable exception.

I’ve also taken to keeping the RIPs on the DL, with the exception of Jess Franco yesterday - that one was important to mark. There are so many and it’s depressing. I’m not that particularly bothered about my own mortality but all of these are markers. So maybe I’ll resume when this thing picks up steam. If it ever picks up steam. There are some anomalies with the browser and with this being modern and all, it doesn’t react the way it always did. When I attempt to investigate, I get distracted or a full-on mind freeze descends. Sometimes both.

 

Anyway, tonight's task is to try and deal with some of the e-mail that's awaiting being answered. I'm making no promises.

Sadly, Jess Franco passed away yesterday. Simon Birrell is way more qualified than I am to "say a few words"...

Jess Franco and Lina were one of history's great couples, right up there with Lux and Ivy. I was privileged to meet and work with them over the years and my only regret is that I didn't see more of them towards the end. I first met them in 1992, just after moving to Madrid. I was helping out my buddies Cathal Tohill and Pete Tombs on their book "Immoral Tales" and one of my missions was to track down Franco. This was when he wasn't making movies (post "Don Quixote") and nobody had heard of him or gave a fig. My first impression was of a deeply cultured man who did exactly what he wanted in life, without a giving a hoot for anybody else's opinion or agenda. I was doubly fortunate in meeting Spanish critic Carlos Aguilar the same evening, a friendship that continues to this day. The three of us drank late into the night, then after Jess staggered back home, Carlos grabbed me by the collar and said, "And now let me tell you the TRUTH!". He proceeded to spend the next hour debunking a large part of the stories that Franco had just told me.

Cathal Tohill and I later travelled down to Sitges to meet Jess and Lina. They were exceptionally gracious with us, a couple of hard-up fans who had somehow come across their work. I was supposed to work on the unfinished "Golden Beetle" with them, but a new job came up and I couldn't go to the shoot. That's a regret - my life would have taken a very different course if I'd chucked in the job and just gone. Later, I translated a series of their scripts from Spanish to English; Jess wrote in Spanish but shot in English. So "Killer Barbies", "Marie-Cookie", "Tender Flesh" and others are partly my fault. I remember watching "Tender Flesh" on the sofa with Jess and Lina and not understanding a damn word of my own dialogues. The actors had an uncertain grasp of English, there was no dialogue coach, and my dialogue was probably unpronounceable anyway.

They came over to my flat one day with a scheme for getting a grant to make movies for CHILDREN. Their proposal to the EU (which I translated) contained a line which lamented the "recent tide of sex and violence in cinema" and recommended the financing of a series of wholesome family films. I asked Jess, "So who made all those dreadful movies, then?". He didn't bat an eyelid and replied, "Some bastard!"

That day I had hoped to impress Franco, the jazz expert. I didn't know jazz, but I did have plenty of old obscure music. I put on an LP by Steve Gibson and Red Caps, a 40s group so obscure even their parents had forgotten them. As we were discussing the proposal, Jess suddenly shushed me. "Buddy Tate", he said, referring to the music. Ever the sophisticate, I said, "Oh no, that's Steve Gibson and the Red Caps". "No, no", he replied, "I mean the SAXOPHONE!". It was a Bear Family issue, so it had the session details and yes, Buddy Tate played on that track and only that track. So much for my in-depth musical culture; I couldn't even approach his encyclopaedic knowledge.

In exchange for one of the scripts I translated, Jess agreed to appear in an animated web series I directed, a project for Planet Hollywood. He did a great, if hard to follow, voice over for the mad scientist character. His old colleague Jack Taylor was lead voice for the main villain. I loved the fact that he would appear in a marketing vehicle for a company that represents everything detestable and vulgar about modern Hollywood.

There are a lot of stories doing the rounds about Jess making movies and not paying people. I worked with him knowing the stories and fully expecting never to get paid. Who cares? I was going to work with Jess Franco! My own experience is that he paid little, but paid every dime he promised.

The more I think about it, the more apt the comparison with Lux and Ivy is. They were a couple who built their own world, beyond anything in the rest of the universe. We were privileged to peek in to their world from time to time, and lucky to see the end results.

The last time I saw Jess and Lina was some 10 years ago in Madrid. We'd drifted apart when he moved to the south of Spain. It was at the book launch for his excellent autobiography (inexplicably unavailable in English). We were delighted to see each other and stopped to gossip for a while. He was still walking, but with difficulty. "I'm going to die shooting!", he said, and that's pretty much how it turned out. He soldiered on to the end, even after Lina died.

Cathal, Pete and I used to call him "The Great Man". After all these years, and even after the last, decadent, uneven movies, it's still absolutely true.

 

Many thanks to Simon for the piece and the photos.

How does the text on this thing look in your browser? It looks small to me.

I still plan to maybe try and do something with the look but let's see if anything happens with the regularity gambit first.

1st April huh? And much of the stuff we’ve woken up to today is beyond a joke. As the fabric of this septic isle goes to further rack and ruin in the misguided hijacking of the term "efficiency" – all that remains to be considered is really, how far can too far go.

 

Austerity is here to stay. Or so it seems. Not as catchy as “rock’n’roll” is it? I’m pretty sure that any ditty about it won’t warrant a gazillion hits on youtube. So yeah, here we are. A bunch of folks experienced a White Easter. That’s not some kind of racial stereotyping, merely a statement of fact. Temperatures are below seasonal average but the people are hot under the collar. Blighty – and all of the rest of Europe has been sold down the river while the financially rich get richer and the rest of us get right royally humped. As perceived efficiencies is met – actual services disappear. The Police and Fire Departments have become single forces as of today, the wee man only knows what kind of mess will ensue through that premise.

Perhaps they’ll be controlled via scripts from offshore call centres? Not nearly as ludicrous a possibility as it seems in the pursuit of the almighty buck. The alleged “government” can collectively go and take a something that rhymes with that at themselves. Is there no end to the humiliation? Of course, another war or some big catastrophe might really play into their hands. We’re all potential cannon fodder while divide and conquer as a concept is rolled out across the western world. Barry Maguire’s estate may be up for a dollar or three if he lands the theme song. It’s an ill wind... as you know.

I went to see a film called The Happy Lands yesterday. It’s about the 1926 Miners Strike that ran for some months beyond the General Strike and how it affected an area of Fife in particular. It was subtitled because some of that dialect has been found to be a tad difficult to “unnerstaun’” even in the central belt. But the message is that nothing much has changed. The wearing down process may have morphed and multiplied but the essence is the same. I almost never went. It was verging too much on the dreaded costume drama for me but it really works. It’s part documentary – mostly dramatisation – and indeed the localisation was of particular interest. Recent events here have placed emphasis on the concept of family. And how it is far more important than money or trappings.

As families and communities fracture because of greed and kow-towing, it seems to me that we’re all in danger of going under in the pursuit of some creep and his or its bottom line.  Often dressed up as progress, change for change’s sake is seldom improvement. It’s a power trip. Evangelisation takes on many forms and I’m not impressed with bullies, blowhards or combinations thereof. It’s all seemingly out of control. Way so.

Anyway, enough of my blather, this thing is 36 years old today and I mean to attempt and post something every day until I head for Stockholm at the end of the month.

 

Let’s see what happens to this supposed “college try”.

RIP - Paul Williams (Crawdaddy creator)

I know.

Said this thing was going to jumpstart. Well, there've been a few curveballs here and there that have gotten in the way. The enforced regime change with all this new hardware is taking a wee bit of acclimatising to also. Just finding time recently has proven to be problematic. All that considered, it is my intention to stir this thing into life. Maybe even change the decor now that I don't have to pedal so fast to make the screen flicker.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, I'm just glad it's Friday night and I have no place to go. The weather here is grim but not here in the bunker. So let's see how the weekend pans out. No promises or expressions of achieving anything much.

Thanks for dropping by on the off chance something might have occurred, Something will when you - and I - least expect it to.

Still haven’t been able to shake this thing back into action but I made it out two nights in a row on Thursday and Friday. Two shows, two duos. Dynamicly intact.

It was the welcome return of Wreckless Eric and Amy Rigby to Glasgow. As always, the audience should have been bigger but those that were there were treated to this unique experience. Nobody else does what they do and even if they did, they wouldn’t come close to this level of entertainment. That’s what they do, they entertain. It’s not a choreographed chunk with the same banter at every show. It’s always tailored to the moment. It’s a pleasure to witness and hear. They deserve to be appreciated far more widely but these two are resigned to the slog. One day the world will catch up. It has to. The set closer of “Leaving On A Jet Plane” indicated what that would have sounded like had it been tackled by yon Velvet Underground for the third album. By the time it wound out, the meleé could well have come from VU and Nico.

So it was a late finish early on Friday morning. Once those Wrigbys headed for Gateshead, I returned to the reality of phone-rassling.

So by the time it got to the evening, the consideration of dragging myself into Edinburgh. Had I considered that the town would be chocka with rugby supporters, it may well not have happened. However, I flaked out the last time I was supposed to catch The Creeping Ivies so I figured extra effort should be made. The last time I was in The Wee Red Bar in Edinburgh was when Amy (Rigby) played there with her daughter Hazel. And strangely, I’d just talked to Hazel when her mom called her from here in the bunker.

Anyway, it’s a nice room and the Ivies were on a 4 band bill sweetened for me by a 10pm curfew.  I missed the first one. The second one wasn’t too offensive but the third one kind of was. I won’t name names but completely the kind of thing that exasperates me. Ironically desecrating the Boney M songbook is a pretty lame schtick but they had an entourage, one of which introduced them and I’m still trying to uncurl my toes.

The Creeping Ivies are very possibly the best “new” combo in Scotland. The two person group formation has thrown up much that I can’t take more than 10 minutes of. I include The White Stripes in that. But these kids have a magic ingredient, they also look great in addition to making a low down shakin’ chill-inducing racket. They’re honing their chops right now as they impatiently wait for vinyl copies of their “Stay Wild” album to drop.

This is an analog noise that sounds OK in a digital format but they were born to make slabs of wax. Their “Rock’n’Roll Party” EP is begging to be unleashed as a 7” example of the way it can still be done. The best thing about ‘em is that they’re not contrived. There’s a genuine magic that can’t be plotted via the modular antics that so many employ.

So I was glad I caught them finally. They exceeded expectation and I don’t experience that sensation too often.  

I like the concept of routine. Rewritten to suit myself of course but as I get longer in the tooth I struggle to get to grips with change. Not the kind you keep in your pocket, the kind that prods you into having to learn. Not that I’m against learning per se but I have parameters. So I have this new computer. Once I get set up with wi-fi I hope it might avert me from crashing out on the sofa because I’ll discipline myself to use it in another room.

 

Aye. Right. I can hear you think and this is not unfounded but once I get up to speed then what was once normal service could happen again. Efficiencies that actually improve things could also be brought to bear. For instance, maybe I’ll be up for doing artwork and stuff again if anyone gives a hoot. I would be kind of nice to piss about with that again but who knows how long it'll take me to get to grips with this. Hopefully not long because I'm not reknowned for my patience.

 

 

A car clutch failure looked like it might impinge on yon weekend just past but it didn’t wreck things completely. It complicated logistics here and there but not three much. Saw a movie called “Bring Me The Head of the Machine Gun Woman” that was shown as part of Frightfest.

The plotline of this Chilean exploitation flick doesn’t stand too much scrutiny but its several degrees more fun than Django. Caught an episode of Hellfjord, need to see more before I can decide how contrived to a perceived demographic it actually is. 

From there, I met Magnus Dahlmann off the airport bus. He’d made the journey to catch the Sunday Monorail Film Club Screening of Big Star – Nothing Can Hurt Me. Making its long-anticipated debut in a town that has long played a part in the growth of the legend of the band. I would argue the point with anyone that a certain band from Bellshill is almost singularly responsible for giving this much of a hoot, the film plus a US-centric path and tells the story the way it probably needs to be told. While the DB’s and REM or whoever certainly were torch bearers, "Bandwagonesque" is hands down the follow up to Radio City. I think there’s room for a film about Alex to be made aside from this but this is pretty excellent. Personally I found some of it very moving. Articularly the inclusion of that Cramps Memphis footage on the big screen and the Panther Burns clips.

I’m glad Drew DeNicola sanctioned the film to the film festival because of the strong bond that Scottish pop has with that Big Star skewed-anglophilic sound. Having Magnus here allowed scope for wandering around town pointing out hotspots where celebrations of the band have taken place over the years. By the time it makes it to DVD, I’m sure there’ll be a ton of extras but take any opportunity to catch it in a theatre that you can. 

February is almost over. We’re all over the dank, driech cold dark winter. The intention of doing this every day hasn’t exactly worked out but I’m breaking in some new hardware so who knows how March will shape up.  It certainly starts well with the return of Wreckless Eric and Amy Rigby. The immediate world is always a better place with them around.

RIP - Kevin Ayers

I can’t find a trailer for Good Vibrations anywhere. I’ve hunted high and low but there doesn’t seem to be one. Pretty odd for something that’s a month away from a limited cinema run.

However, maybe it’s better that way because you’ll have to go and see it. While not without its flaws here and there, the overall effect and taking into consideration that you should never let the truth get in the way of a good story, I would reckon that most, if not all of you would chime with it.

Watching an actor play someone you actually know is pretty odd. And I’m standing by for more of that with the CBGBs film that’s due soon. Two other aspects of film personally moved me and I’m not going to divulge those just in case you can get the same frisson.

Terri Hooley was at the screening and he stated that Glasgow was the place he really wanted to attend the screening. He was a little overcome with emulsion as befits his character. The fact that a story like this could ever be made into a film in this day and age is out of step with perceived regulation. However this made it to screen is something to be celebrated. I read a very mean-spirited, entirely missing the point review of it online. Then I read that it made Mark Kermode cry. I wonder if he was affected by the same parts as I was?

Perhaps I’ll get a chance to ask him when The Dodge Brothers hit Bo’ness in March.

This posting every day thing isn’t really working out for one reason and another. Spent most of yesterday in the cinema... and it started well with a screening of “Angels With Dirty Faces” in the morning. Part of Glasgow Film Festival’s Cagney "season", the expression “they don’t make then like that anymore” certainly struck me when I was watching it. Being able to see these films on the big screen is genuinely magic.

From GFT, I made for the less-conducive climes of Cineworld for “Joe Dies at The End”. While not outright awful, its contempt for conventional storytelling becomes increasingly premeditated/irritating. Consider Bill and Ted take the "Lost Highway" in a version of “Go” or “The Hidden” for a post Scott Pilgrim world without the inherent charm of any of those. Add a hint of Donnie Darko and it plays out like a pilot for a TV show that will almost certainly never be made. Based on an internet phenomenon, it ultimately suffers from not being as smart as it seems to believe it might be.

And the location meant that by the time I made it down from the top floor of the cineplex then I just got back to the station as the train was pulling out. Part of a litany of events that peppered the whole day but I digress.

The final viewing of the day was “Django Unchained”. I’d bodyswerved reading anything about it and went in expecting to like it as I generally do with Tarantino movies. I like the way he appropriates and has created an audience made of people who would never go to see the stuff he filches from. With the exception of Christoph Waltz’s excellent performance – he gets all the best dialogue, it’s a series of set pieces built around the premise of "Blazing Saddles" as realised by Sam Peckinpah. The gore is B+Q red though and maybe a couple of fart gags would have loosened it up a bit. It’s way too long and choreographed. In my opinion, having rap in the soundtrack of a western is just wrong. DU is just too up itself to be entertaining to me and I think the John Legend song just tipped it all over the edge in populist self congratulation. He could have used Richie Havens, that would have made all the difference. I reiterate, to me. Go see it yourself but just don't expect to be blown away.

Disappointment is something I should be used to by now but it still rankles. I could use a suprise or two of the upbeat variety right about now. Let’s hope that tomorrow’s “Good Vibrations” screening provides a little of that.