IT'S A FUNTASTIC WORLD!

I saw something on a facebook post recently than someone made to Gene Taylor. It went along the lines of “it’s all about the hang”. And with regards to the Funtastic Dracula Carnival that is entirely the case. Of course there’s a lot of music too but as a social event goes that I have ever attended, this is the greatest gathering of any given calendar year. If only we could have taken the Wurli crew en mass then I could quite happily have keeled over in the KU disco. I realise that could be problematic for everyone else but I’m deadly serious.

Funtastic X marked 10 years of throwing the biggest party on earth. There was something very poignant about The Sonics headlining too. Being that their music is a total cornerstone of this rock’n’roll malarkey. The fact that they existed to appear was something the cosmos was surely working toward this past decade. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I’ll hopefully soon be able to post a link to every set so you can make up your own mind as to who was good or not. I’ll deal with my favourites and try to explain a little about the Funtastic phenomenon.

It was earlier than usual during what were school holidays across Europe. This meant that we had to co-exist with beered-up Britons . Many of these individuals are less than attractive and appear to require at least 5 pints to even get on the plane. And that’s just the women... ha ha. Wee joke (kinda).

My billet for the first night in town was right down on the beach, next to the old town. Some of the sights I saw soaking up the sun were verging on the nasty but let’s live and let live I suppose. This would later be put into further perspective on the flipside of the opening festivities.

After some aimless wandering and an attempt at a siesta, it was time to saunter up to the UFO. The revellers were beginning to gather and I met a few familiar faces. This is what I mean about the social aspect. Although in many ways this is a wild, wild weekend – there’s an affinity with the attendees that is truly rare these days. Now I could live up to my curmudgeon status here and suggest that people wearing Pixies or Str*nglers t-shirts not be allowed in. Maybe like a high class restaurant, the punk rock maitre de could offer something more suitable... ha ha. More than one person extolled the virtue of it being important not to bring a shirt that anyone else may be wearing. In that case, it seems the same as any outfit for an auspicious occasion.

Once inside, it’s time to change Euros to Draculin, the FDC bar currency allows you to score a tipple of choice. In no time, the venue was packed and the action kicked off with The Lie Detectors.

The fundamental beauty of Funtastic is that you can dip in and out of the acts. As I’m keen to point out, bumping into old friends and meeting new like-minded crazies is really what this is all about. For three days we get aboard the ship for the closest thing to a weekend on mars that I’m likely to experience in my lifetime. And if a band comes along that you never expected to blow you away then that’s a bonus. Last year it was Autoramas, this time out it was Gino and the Goons from Fla. They just battered through a selection that brought to mind a perfect melding of The Oblivians and The Heartbreakers via a Ramonic rush. I bought all their records, that’s how much I dug them.

Bloodshot Bill and The Masonics with Ms Ludella Black were next. The Medwaytastic latter closing with a rousing version of "New Rose" that approximated the closest there is likely ever be to a Milkshakes reunion. 

The crowd was suitably energised. Interspersed with the bands and in several locations, there are Funtastic DJs. Lutz Soundflat and Iñigo Munster both hit the throngs with hit after hit. That’s hit as in floor filler. The dancing never stops. After Inigo was done, I toddled off back to my billet. It was a blessing and a curse to not be staying directly across the street this year. My liver is likely breathing a sigh of relief though. There was hardly anyone on the street. The throngs of loud, pished Brits (and other nationalities) had disappeared. The schlep along the deserted boardwalk was magical and I stopped for a minute to watch the waves roll in before disturbing the hotel porter guy to let me in.

The really big adventure would start the next day when the kids from Madrid and Barcelona arrived.

A couple, maybe three hours later I was back out on the pavie. Once again the hordes had descended upon the beach and just as well one wasn’t about to eat for a bit. Letting it all hang out is one thing but c’mon... nobody should have to see so many varieties of beached whale.

We met at a restaurant called La Familia that we’d tried to get into last year but it was closed. My predilection with not eating seafood is problematic and a nuisance I’m sure but the paella that Francisco had them concoct has made me want to adapt the recipe at home. Note to self also... get some Pacharan.

From there we went to our digs along the coast in Finestrat. This place looked fancy in the photos but I’ll be darned if it didn’t look even better in real life. I don’t recall having have stayed in such a swanky spot ever before. A bar right next to the apartment too that served gin tonics like those in WEIRDO! BAR. In these big goldfish bowl style glasses and those set the scene just nicely.

We just missed The Monsieurs and much time was spent just bumping into folks that you just don’t see often enough. Nikki Corvette and the Romeos included Sir Morten of Henriksen or Morton Yum Yum as he signed in “The Billy Book” and they just flew out of the traps. A nugget of pure pop amidst a sea of gritty punk rock. The Pagans had to follow them and it didn’t really work for me. Reminded me of the last time I saw The Saints. A bit lumpy. But the party was raging out on the terrace with some fine DJ action. At one point I heard “Johnny and Dee Dee” blasting forth, then The Records “Starry Eyes”. Bliss. No “Glad to See You Go” though.

Nikki Corvette

Listening to records in this environment is like having a few hundred friends over for a record party and Russ Wilkins even spun discs that he had custom-cut himself specifically for this auspicious occasion.

Sunday saw a return visit to Villajoyosa and a bustling restaurant (Hogar del Pescador)for lunch then back for another attempt at a siesta that never manifested itself. We never caught Los Ass Draggers sadly but Muck and the Mires were pretty good in a jangly kinda way. It made me think how amazing them Young Fresh Fellows would be in this setting. Lo-Lite didn’t hold my attention and I don’t get Les Grys-Grys at all. Estella reprimanded me for this but I call it as I see and hear it. They’re the Paisley dress-up Jim Jones Revue for my money. I dig the fact that that kids seem to like them and that they do good business for mi amigos that pilot Dirty Water Records but I never need to see or hear them ever again. This old git is not for turning.

Yummy Punk Rock Girls - Maite, Maria and Ruth plus an old git.

Flat Duo Jets on the other hand just effortlessly emoted cool. It was just Dex and “Crash” but this was one two-man combo that really hit the spot. Rousing instro-mental stylings and skewered Americana was served up and I really thought that they might have played a bit longer. My hit pick for Day 2.

It was then time for The Sonics, as mentioned before, this is the very bedrock of the Funtastic aesthetic and nobody can deny the anthem status of their catalogue.  As you can imagine, the place went totally bananas.

The Sonics at full tilt!

A relatively early flight meant that there was no wee hours action for me. A cab would be coming to collect me all too soon that would take me to the bus stop. When I got there I planked myself on the bench and watched some of my fellow Funtastic attendees file down the Avenida de Europa into the 24 hour cafes. I was jealous. As the bus rolled out toward Alicante, I passed yet more revellers and wished I could have joined them. Hanging on to every last second.

I have no idea what or how Paloma and Sr Varo get this thing together but may they never EVER lose the will to serve up this annual helping of the beat that just can't be beat. They’ve cut and shut quite the hot rod monster and they’re just gonna keep on souping it on up. As curates, they deserve some kind of rock’n’roll canonisation. They do incredible work, year after year. A tireless and passionate example to us all.

The honour and privilege of being able to attend and be a tiny part of the celebration is something that I am never about to take for granted. And, as I sit here in the bunker kitchen, contemplating that I need to go out and tidy the drive, the dates for next year are anxiously awaited. Stand by for set links, coming your way just as soon as they appear.

 All Funtastic Photos by Ms Ruth López-Diéguez except the paella and 

yonder sunset by Francisco (Fran the Man) Santelices 

In search of Telemech!

Weekend 2 and Barrence Whitfield and them Savages made a pit stop at Edinburgh’s Electric Circus, supported by The No-Things. We managed to make a quick call to Sir Billy of Miller before it was time for them to play. The band came right down on top of Auld Reekie as only they can with that patented Greenberg guitar volley. I had to cut out of there shortly after the gig because it was to be an early start the next AM.

The first of two weekends in a beach resort saw me take a train to “Ebberdeen” to catch Matt and Kim open for Fall Out Boy at the AICC enormodrome. The kids done good and the opportunity to catch something of that scale was an eye-opener. I knew that when the audience sang along with "Stacey's Mom" during the interval that everything was going to be alright.

In the afternoon KP and I daundered down to the esplanade. We found a greasy spoon that had a copy of The Tornados The Ice Cream Man 45 on the wall. We’d just been talking about Joe Meek earlier. 

I showed him where one of the best record shops, an electrical/discs hybrid like they used to be was. It was called Telemech. I couldn't recall the name of the place where I scored "Won't Get Fooled Again" and "Leap Up and Down" by St Cecilia.

I got a lift down the road in a proper tour bus too and left the team at a Shell Station in South Queensferry a little after midnight. It was all a wee bit surreal at that juncture.

Four days at the salt mine seemed like a small penance to pay and I would be heading for yet another beach. Double the temperature in the daytime and scorchio punk rock action in the night time...  the Funtastic report is coming up next!

The Euphoric Haze of Wurlipalooza IX

September 25^th... I left a driech, wet Edinburgh and arrived in a bright, hot Madrid pretty much ship shape and Bristol fashion by noon and raring to go. The taxi trip in was quite humbling. How many times have I been here and I can barely communicate with the taxi driver, an old guy who was excitedly pointing out landmarks while his radio played some Spanish station. It’s usually FM rock bombast but this just seemed much more right. Quite the welcome!

First stop was to meet Brother Marco Padin and pick up the long-awaited Dahlmanns 45s. He took me to a 50s style diner modelled someplace between American Graffiti and Cry Baby called Tommy Mel’s. The colour scheme reminded me of this video by The Pantones. Ghost Highway Recordings flies the flag for proper rock’n’roll. Creating desirable vinyl artefacts for the discerning listener and “He’s A Drag” in black and yellow wax versions is definitely one of those.

The jaunt back on the Metro was an adventure. 150 45s is a weighty proposition but the exercise likely did me good. Then, Marco figured there weren't enough copies to fulfil the pre-orders so I had to give him some back. Not a bad problem to have.

From there to my pop-up office in the illustrious La Fiambrera for the first Mahou of the day, it went down nicely. It hardly seems possible that it was just a year since the ladies secured the property and they’ve scrubbed it up real nice like. It’s a sweet spot.

There was record-bagging to do so I returned to the hotel and saw to that. Seth Gordon and Robbie Rist were playing at a new place – Phantom – just around the corner. It must have been called something else before but I’d never clocked it before.

Sara and Ramôn joined me for a cheeky wee pre-show sherry at La Venencia. I love to hang out with these kids. The show was very entertaining and how crazy is it that you have to travel to Spain to hear a little Edison Lighthouse? Trochled up to Wurlitzer from there and met Álvaro and Helena outside. It was nice just to take the air and blab. No more drink was taken and I think that was probably a good thing.

This meant that I was able to swing around to Munster early then LF for a smashin’ wee pastie breakfast. Dropped by Wurli where an American girl was trying to communicate with the Ukranian cleaning lady. It was not going well. She’d lost her purse (and her mind) the night before and was about to leave town. I told her that if it was in there then she would definitely get it back and gave her 20 euros to tide her over. The Dahlmann entourage arrived and then things began to move into gear.

Showtime and I liked Grupo Sub 1. They knocked out a version of The Avengers “We Are The One” that really did the original proud. At that point, I had to nip out and pick up a surprise guest from MRC and that was when the party really kicked off. The gang was all present and correct. Marcela came too, despite her recent crushing workload. We never made it to El Sol this time around. Got back to Wurli to catch the end of Kurt Baker's set and then it was time for The Primitives. The evening, or night rather, was in full swing at that point. A wee wander up to WEIRDO! BAR with the kids for a cheeky wee gin and tonic where I met the new proprietress, Susana. Here’s to the place continuing its unique twist on the Mad-Toon night circuit.

I believe we also stopped off at Mongo - a new joint - but it was closed so we made our way back to base camp (Wurlitzer). 

It was Saturday already, hell it was well into Saturday when we called it a night. A 1pm date had been made with The Royal Roosters (look out for their single on Soundflat) at LF. A swingin’ way to spend a lunch time to be sure and excellent to experience the basement speakeasy in all its bricktastic glory first hand.

Time just barrelled in from there... Managed to get down to La Alegria where Gry took a picture of herself in the exact same place as Line sits on the Drag 45 cover. Ms Blanca, who shot that very image also came out to play. Great to meet the exquisitely-monikered Aretha Croqueta too. Talking of that delicacy, many were consumed across this all too short visit.

Managed to catch FAST FOOD. I never realised that The Ant was once a member until Javi gave me a CD. Zipping through the opening set, they really set the scene for the D’s perfectly. What they do might seem simple but I know it’s not and they really pulled off that Ramone splendour.

And then it was time for Los Dahlmanns. Line told me that this was her best experience on stage ever and you could tell that from the get go. The anticipation of this for all concerned was up a notch even from usual and they just fucking nailed it perfectly. The length of set – the sequence – and even a late addition of “I Want You Around” for The Manges just pummelled the crowd with what is quite probably the greatest pop and roll ever delivered anywhere. As ever, I admit my bias but if you were there then you know.

The inclusion of “Girl Band” and “Tear Me Apart” (the latter to appear on the next WFMU Superhits of the Seventies comp that Michael Shelley is preparing now) was just the proverbial icing on a particularly groovy cake. The sense of utter joy at the front of the stage will be hard to ever replicate. I outright plotzed several times and this was up there with The Ramones at Glasgow Barrowlands in June 1985. I swear to Joe.

One of the Manges geezers said to Line when she came off – “You expect us to follow that?” And I think you pretty much get the gist. And they made an admirable (screamin’) fist of doing so. They were also big fun to hang out with at the pub down the Cruces, I hope to make their acquaintance again. The bass player, Mass reminded me of my old pal Lou Whitney. T'was a night that I certainly never wanted to end and I think we gave it a good go. One of the all time great times.

Yours truly was like a burst ball after all of that but I was determined to show Gry more of my favourite city. Then it was time to eat at Calle 30 and then to make for the airport where it all came unstuck due to a mix of fluster and stupidity on my part. The perfect, pleasant end to the weekend was cruelly dispatched. The MRC contingent was travelling from another terminal and fate dealt me a cruel blow that Sunday evening. I can see Andre now reciting the word “idiot” to our fellow crew and I plead guilty as charged. So that was it, the very bestest of times ended pretty sourly and a hard lesson was learned. It was for all the world like some twisted season finale.

But here’s to the next time. Wurlipalooza 2016 will be the 10^th Anniversary. Pencil that in for the last weekend in next September and come join in.

Prelude to The Actual Rollers Shows this December!

On my Wish List for Funtastic XI...

Hear it like they feel it!

I don't think anyone saw this coming...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FUNTASTIC!

Ladies and Gents - the great Kurt Bloch!

WURLIPALOOZA Numero IX

Gift Tips for Christmas 2015!

Well, the seasonal candy (Christmas not Hallowe'en) is in the supermarkets so... maybe someone you're acquainted with would appreciate this. You can order it via your book purveyor of choice now. It's out on October 12th. Click the image for details.

ALL ABOARD THE D-TRAIN!

This is post number 6400 (apparently). I know there hasn't been much activity lately but there is an intention to provide a daily dose again. 

Maybe by the time the clocks change...

Is it The Manges or just Manges? 

I'm not sure but you get the drift.

You won't want to miss these!

Coming in December via Light in the Attic... the entire output of the Chilton, Vaughn, Vega triumvirate.

Cubist Blues

Live at Trans-musicales

Pre-order now... Black and Yellow - 125 of each!

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Temporary Glitsch (Maybe)

I have a wee problem with Blogger since I upgraded this effin laptop. Expert (not me) advice is being sought and hopefully this will just be temporary. But who knows with these things. I can't upload images and I don't even know if this will post. When the browser message didn't show I figured we were sorted but er, NAW!

So bear with we. And thanks for dropping by.

Rich Stim's Weather Bulletin

Next Thursday in Brooklyn!

Andy Shernoff Vs Lydia Lunch

Do You Believe? - Lola Dutronic is Back!

Recollections from a Thursday Night Punk Mass - Parts One and Two

I decided to tackle this in two parts. I’ll address the occasion first and then deal with the aspect that reflects a particular personal prejudice. The latter borne out of a dread that came over me when I first read what format the evening of July 9^th would take. Often I find that if I worry about something long and hard enough, it doesn’t come to pass but this time my hunch was entirely wrong.  My emotional investment was off the scale and the reason for this happening – or Punk Mass – as it was billed - took place to mark the significance of an entity that is known to the world as Suicide.

Part One

As you’re undoubtedly aware but in case you came in late, the first Suicide record was the sonic equivalent of “Eraserhead”. Nobody who ever encountered it to this day has gone unaffected. Particularly back before their influence became the DNA of EDM and several other genres. They have since infiltrated the mainstream to a degree that might have seemed ludicrous when Clash and Costello audiences were throwing everything that wasn’t nailed down at them.

I just watched a YouTube clip where Marty talks about them being “interpreters”. The fact that the debut came out here via Bronze made it possible that they were able to come here and terrorise Europe earlier than they might have done otherwise. Once seen or heard, Suicide was never forgotten. No matter what camp you were in.

London was a nightmare last Thursday but at least the weather was nice. Gridlock brought upon by the tube strike meant that the only way to get anywhere was on the hoof. Prior to wandering off to the Barbican, I was reacquainted with my old mucker Derek Harris who runs Lewis Leathers. WE calculated that we hadn’t seen one another for 30 years but just picked up where we left off and agreed to continue the reunion at the show.

I made it to the venue in plenty of time. It’s a sprawling place but relatively easy to navigate and I had a great seat. Second row, front centre (C33).

Suicide – A Punk Mass was performed in two parts. An ensemble that calls itself The Feral Choir kicked off both. I think I’ll leave it at that. This ensemble included the Japanese combo Bo Ningen. One of them looked like Joey Ramone if he’d raided Ian Astbury’s wardrobe. As a form of expression, I guess it has its place but not anywhere in my proximity.

Then Henry Rollins bounds on and provides an introduction from his perspective. I’m not a fan of much of his music but let’s not forget that he sings on the version of “Ghost Rider” that made the soundtrack of “The Crow”. I believe he is sincere and that his enthusiasm is infectious.

So then Rev swaggers on and limbers up for "Stigmata". Three girl singers flank the stage and he crashes into a meditation upon the Del Vikings “Whispering Bells” that sounded like it had just jumped off an extended soundtrack for “Mulholland Drive” that Shadow Morton might have dreamt up. The bar was raised pretty high at that point. The remainder of the set didn’t quite deliver the same level of heart punch but that first one left me reeling. There’s a consensus to the effect that we wish he would play more rather than assault his keyboard but one can’t unscramble eggs and I’m going to be delving into his solo catalogue when I’m done with this. I particularly favour Rev’s allegiance to doo-wop and the romantic notion of that music that peppers his work.

Next up was the Vega family ensemble of Alan, Liz and Dante performing material from the forthcoming release “It”. This was way more visceral. Alan’s stage entrance was both invigorating and alarming. His face was so expressive but as he told us, “I can’t walk anymore”, so I chose to focus on his facial communication being that I was so close when he was able to propel himself forward. The yelp is intact too. Liz and Dante cooked up the squall that would bolster Alan’s recitation. I look forward to hearing the album. 

A short intermission preceded the critical section of the Mass – Suicide themselves, a force of nature like no other. This event was a celebration of how far they’ve come having stuck to their blueprint if indeed there ever was such a thing. Suicide has changed the landscape of music like hardly anyone else in history. When that patented chopper blade riff started to pummel then the full force came to bear on the auditorium. In the same way that perhaps Dylan performs loose approximations of his catalogue, not much of the set tonight resembles the recorded versions with the exception of “I Surrender”. What was it Vega once said, “Once you write it, forget it” or something to that effect. That was the one that was almost too much. Plain - off the scale - beautiful. The interaction between Rev and Vega reached an apex there and a tear streamed down the left side of my face at that point. This is what we were here for, a deep connection to the mainframe.

A mighty “Woolly Bully” loop ripped through the place next and a mini-riot erupted at the RH side of the hall (facing the stage). It was instigated by one particular girl that was on a mission to get the place moving. Maybe if the venue hadn’t been seated it would have spread further. It was a valiant attempt for sure. I sort of wished I’d been closer to the action.

And then it was done. Just like that. We made it. My worst fear unfounded at that juncture. After much stomping and shouting Alan and Marty returned with Hank in tow for "Ghost Rider". By that point Alan looked like he’d had enough. Rollins tried to cajole him but he didn’t want to. I can’t be certain but it sounded like he said “I’m a fuckin’ parrot”. There wasn’t much truth being screamed at that point but there had been a whole mess of that earlier.

What happened next completely and utterly killed the whole experience stone dead for me and I’ll deal with that in part two. I posted on the facedog when I got in that there were a few very high highs. And that their ability to confound is utterly intact. I stand by that. Post-show, I drowned some pretty deep sorrows with my friends Derek, Saaya and Karen. Had I just gone back to the hotel there’s no telling how things might have turned out. So I thank those kids for their sterling company and the moral support. Likewise to the rest of the crew who continued with the post-mortem on Friday over drinks and Indian cuisine.

My big concern is Alan’s health and I’m sad that I never got to say hello. I consider the man to be a god as well as a friend. However, I hope folks will appreciate my need to be honest. So here goes...

Part Two

A very wise man not present at the event posed the question – “Why the fuck would anyone think they can sit in with Suicide?” This is moot but Rollins did OK. He tried to charge Alan with positive energy. The fact that the wee fella was having none of it is another thing entirely. Henry’s generosity of spirit was evident and he earned his wings.

After “Ghost Rider”, I looked down for a second just as “Dream Baby Dream” was taking off. Lifting my head I’m all of a sudden confronted by a character so bereft of humility that I don’t understand why anyone gives him the time of day. Someone that has in my opinion, founded a career on appropriating premeditated 'cool' as a device to flog his modular rock pantomime.

The singer from the group Savages had also appeared to join in on the tone-deaf dismantling of what I consider to be a hymn. My fears had become a reality to the point that I think a wee panic attack ensued. I rallied but they just went on howling like two constipated banshees for the duration.

I wasn’t in the minority judging by the reaction of people around me. Not friends but fellow fans that obviously recognise a chancer when confronted by one. Everything seemed to come to a grinding halt at that point. I wandered out into the foyer in a daze, spitting feathers.

If you don't know who I'm talking about then head over here. You can compare and contrast. You may even disagree with me. That is entirely your prerogative even though you'd be wrong to.

Wandering back to the hotel under sedation, I wondered what Marty Thau would have made of all this. I also saw a Don Letts looky-likey unloading a Boots van on the Tottenham Court Road. It had been a rough night.

RIP - Billy Borgioli

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No' long noo...

The Groovies go NRBQ in Madrid!

In Edinburgh, this weekend, the return of....

The return of Tav Falco with a new troupe of Panther Burns I believe...? And prior to the (command) performance there will be a screening of 'Urania Descending'. He'll be in Glasgow at The Poetry Club with The Creeping Ivies on Friday.

Good Things Come In Bundles Of Three!

Three things happened last week that would suggest to me that rock’n’roll is not entirely deid (Scot lingo – not a typo). It may, more often than not, smell funny but rumours of its demise are still premature.

These happenstances were, the majesty of those Dictators songs being performed in a shithole that was not worthy of the performance. Due to virtually zero promotion or the actuality that Glasgow never stepped up to the plate, neither of those altered the experience of those that leave their midden heids (see ‘deid’ above) that Wednesday night.

On Thursday, Mudhoney returned and again rubberstamped their position as something way more than the pigeonhole they were saddled with. These guys swing. The other grunge – including Cobain’s crew – never did - in my opinion.

The third aspect of what restored my faith – and by no means least – was the release of Screeching Weasel’s “Baby Fat Act One”. It’s not often that I have high expectations about anything. It’s even less common that such lofty consideration could be exceeded but I’m hornswaggled to report that it has.

If these were the days of yore then this would propel the band into the stratosphere. Construed as a 'libretto', everything about it is extremely high-calibre. The sound is like those (Bob) Ezrin-produced Alice Cooper records, where pin sharp operatic guitars howl and this is the best example since “Welcome To My Nightmare”. But it’s also way more. The elements encompass shades of John Carpenter, Ennio Morricone, Jim Steinman and of course that Ramonic wallop. “Living Hell” reminds me of Compulsion, who other than Lisa Fancher remembers those guys? “All Winter Long” is just 45 seconds long and it could be the anthem for every summer to come. However, I just remembered – there is no justice. This section features Suzy Chain and BB Quattro on backing vocals. Line Dahlmann plays the part of Miserella and it’s an utter joy to hear her on here. My extended family done great. 

So there’s Ben, Blag Dahlia, Kat Spazzy and Paul Collins too. All pitching in to make this something that would have taken a gazillion dollars to make not so long ago. And even at that – the realisation of such a project would have been down to chemistry. Not the amount of drugs the participants took dufus – the way the music and vocals interact. You could bring in any amount of alleged professional firepower and I doubt they’d arrive at anything half so incredible as this has turned out.

If only there was a way to perform it in some kind of live situation – "Baby Fat" would truly sweep the world. As it is, I’m not sure what songs could find their way into an actual SW live set. The current line up does (I think) feature on 5 of the ‘songs’ but the potential lack of context might render that improbable.

An often controversial figure, Ben sure went the extra mile to bamboozle the fuckwits that like to take internet swings at him from time to time. Believe me. You haven’t heard anything quite like this in a long time. Perhaps you never heard anything like it ever so all the more reason why you need to hear it now. Cut along over to Recess Records now and scratch that itch. CD and cassette (!) available now, vinyl out in July – thanks to the gimp(s) that head up RSD for the delay on that.
 

This looks like it was quite a night...

Los Limboos down the LF Speakeasy!

Sunday Salon Culture!

Sunday Salon Matinees
2 until 5.30pm Sundays. Free Entry

A series of cabaret style events presided over by Marc Baines and Rob Churm: a splurge of film, performance, projections, musical interludes and good times.

Sunday May 10th: Robert Downey Sr. / Kuchar Bros.
Putney Swope director Robert Downey Senior’s baffling but thoroughly entertaining TWO TONS OF TURQUOISE TO TAOS TONIGHT(USA 1975) features a score by Jack Nitzsche (Ronettes, Neil Young and early Rolling Stones arranger) and an exhuberant central performance by Downey Junior’s Ma, Elsie. A supporting programme celebrates the fabulous Kuchars. Mike’s THE CRAVEN SLUCK(USA 1967) stars brother George (in a Beatle wig) communing with lascivious suburban starlets, a lost dog and a sky swarming with UFOs. It’s glaringly obvious the influence this film had on a young John Waters. George Kuchar’s loquacious humour is in full flow in his videos SCARLET DROPPINGS, ROUTE 666, THE INMATE and BURNOUT (USA 1991 - 2003), mash ups of storm diaries,demented puppetry, melodramatic overtures and thoughtful reflections on death and flatulence.

Sunday May 17th: La Jetée + Raydale Dower
Chris Marker’s apocalyptic time travel rumination LA JETEE (France 1962) occupies a special place of its own in film history and was the inspiration for Terry Gilliam’s Twelve Monkeys not to mention a zillion art school films. For this screening Marker’s startling images are accompanied by a newly written synth and clarinet score by Tut Vu Vu’s Raydale Dower. In a schlockier vein Curtis Harrington (Kenneth Anger’s cameraman and author of Nice Guys Don’t Work In Hollywood) brings us QUEEN OF BLOOD (USA 1966), a tale of migrant rescue and intergalactic vampires. The film utilises gorgeous footage of Russian space hardware and special effects and the acting flair of John Saxon and Dennis Hopper. Intermission music of a space age variety from Delia Derbyshire, Sun Ra Arkestra, Gil Melle, Devo, Esquivel, Raymond Scott, Stereolab and like that...

Sunday May 24th: Robert Altman / Jane Elliot
Robert Altman’s strange, unsettling and dream-like THREE WOMEN (USA 1977) ranges between desert expanses and confined apartment spaces and boasts extraordinary performances from Sissy Spacek (Carrie) and Shelley Duvall (The Shining). In the wake of a life changing incident health spa workers Pinky Rose (Spacek) and Millie (Duvall) find their relationship with each other shifts and alters in unexpected ways. Also showing: William Peter’s A CLASS DIVIDED (USA 1985) documenting a social experiment teacher Jane Elliot developed in the 1960s for a 3rd Grade  class in Iowa. Segregated by eye colour, on day one blue eyed children are privileged over green eyed children. The next day the roles are reversed and the sometime surprising consequences are observed and disected. A fascinating study of how power and authority exploit discrimination.

Sunday June 7th: William Klein / Gilbert Hernandez
Acclaimed photographer and documentarist William Klein made a trio of fiction films; Qui Etes Vous, Polly Maggoo? (recently shown in the Hairdressers by Matchbox Cineclub); The Model Couple and today’s feature, MR. FREEDOM (France 1969), a pop art extravaganza that resonates with Mai ‘68 and Guy Peelaert’s contemporaneous Pravda and Jodelle comics. American superhero Mr Freedom is in Paris and, confused as to why the locals aren’t falling in line with his right wing agenda, sets about addressing the wayward Europeans with a benevolent dose of violence. The top notch supporting cast includes Serge Gainsbourg, Delphine Seyrig and Donald Pleasance. Also showing: cable TV show NAKED COSMOS (USA 2005) directed by cartoonist Gilbert Hernandez (Love & Rockets) and two SUPERMAN cartoons (USA1941) in scorching colour.

Sunday June 14th: Elkin + Gummy Stumps / Cattle & Richards / Clarke
A busy afternoon of live performances and presentations that ends with a collaboration between Belfast born video and performance artist KATHRYN ELKIN and Hairdressers perennials GUMMY STUMPS, a tribute of sorts to Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point. RACHEL CATTLE & STEVE RICHARDS introduce their latest piece, STATION TO STATION (UK 2015) and we’re showing ANNE- MARIE COPESTAKE’s’s new Sound of Yell video. The afternoon kicks of with Shirley Clarke’s THE CONNECTION (USA 1962), a faux documentary in which a director, already out of his depth, gets talked into sinking deeper and deeper into the heroin soaked world of the beatniks and jazz musicians he’s filming. The Jackie McLean Quintet rehearse and Warren Finnerty gives an intense Steve Buscemiesque performance.Clarke cannily remoulds the original stage play by combining cinema verite and experimental film techniques.

Sunday June 21st: Smog Monster / Tanaami / DAM artists
The 11th entry in the original series of Godzilla films is also one of the weirdest and most fun. Yoshimitsu Banno takes over directing from Ishiro Honda for GODZILLA vs THE SMOG MONSTER (AKA Godzilla vs Hedorah) (Japan 1971), an ecological disaster movie wrapped in gogo dancing, stylish animation that demonstrates questionable scientific theories and the inevitable men in rubber suits batting each other from pillar to post. Taking their name from a previous Godzilla film, the Detroit art and music collective Destroy All Monsters (formed 1973), was the early stomping ground of artists Mike Kelley; Jim Shaw; Carey Loren and Niagara. Their music soundtracks Loren’s SHAKE A LIZARD’S TAIL (USA 1995), a wild montage of cable ads, dance offs and b-movie clips. Plus: a handful of short animations by Japanese pop artist KEIICHI TANAAMI (Japan 200 - 2008).

A Blast from the Past...

The Redd Kross Code 1988

REDD KROSS Variety Arts Center L.A. 9-9-1988 {124} a PUNK CONCERT FILM by Video Louis from Louis Elovitz on Vimeo.

Not long now....

Announcing! BABY FAT ACT 1- via Recess Records, out May 26th. Summer Tour Dates: Tickets on-sale one week from today on Friday May 8th at 10am local time.July 24th- Washington DC- Howard Theatre*July 25th- New York, NY- Webster Hall**July 26th- Boston, MA- Royale**Aug 7th- San Francisco, CA- The Regency Ballroom**Aug 8th- Santa Ana, CA- The Observatory**Aug 9th- San Diego, CA- The Observatory North Park****w/ The Queers and The Mr T Experience.*w/ The Queers... hang tight, working on MTX.Also, already on-sale- June tour dates.June 12th- Portland, OR- Crystal Ballroom^June 13th- Vancouver, BC- Commodore Ballroom^^ w/ MxPx--------Preorder the record: https://recessrecords.bandcamp.com/album/baby-fat-act-1It's gonna be a great summer!

Posted by Screeching Weasel on Friday, 1 May 2015

More Courettes!

Fella-tastic!

Spain Capers

Angel Corpus Christi

 

Half Moon Fever

 

Get It HERE!

Good Bad most def not Evil!

,br>

It was 14 years ago today that the bad, bad news came in...

Youthful Exhuberance!

It hardly ever gets better than this!

Sophisticated Boom Boom...

Alex Chilton's Jacket from grant mcphee on Vimeo.

Paul Collins is coming to the UK and "the Europe"...

April 2 IRL Galway, Róisín Dubh

 April 3 IRL Derry– Sandino’s

 April 5 IRL Dublin– Bello Bar

 April 6 IRL Limerick TBC

 April 7 UK Glasgow– Nice’n’Sleazy

 April 8 UK Manchester– Kraak

 April 9 UK Liverpool TBC

 April 10 UK Nottingham TBC

 April 11 UK London– Rhythm Factory

 April 14th NL Amsterdam– Paradiso

 April 15th NL Groningen– Vera

 April 16th Fr Paris– Petits Bains

 April 17th Fr Clermont Ferrand– Bombshell

 April 18th Fr Bordeaux– Bootleg

 April 19th Fr Montpellier– Secret Place

 April 20th Fr St Etienne– L'Assommoir

 April 22nd Fr Brest– Espace Leo Ferret

 April 23th Fr Rouen– 3 Pièces Musik Club

 April 25th Fr Montbéliard– L'Atelier des Môles

 April 26th Fr Nice– Le Volume

 April 27th It Imperia– Arci Camalli

 April 28th It La Spezia– Skaletta

 April 29th It Milano– Ligera

 April 30th It Piacenza– Soundbonico

 May 1st It Festa del Primo Maggio in Castiglione delle Stiviere

 May 2nd It Ravenna– Bocca Barranca

 May 3rd It Turin –Blah Blah

 May 4th FR Perpignan– BBC

 May 5 SP Renteria– Centro Cultural Niessen

 May 6 SP Bilbao–Kafe Antxoki

 May 7 SP Zaragoza – Casa del Loco

 May 8 SP Valencia– Loco Club -

May 9 SP Madrid– El Sol -

May 10 SP Caceres – Sala Barroco

It's a Hit!

RIP - A.J. Pero

Actually I'm not sure that AJ Pero played on this... possibly not. But it's (arguably) their finest moment. I'll try to look out the 45 tomorrow.

FRANKLIN-FEST July 2/3/4 2015

Morellmania!

Thanks to Jerker for flagging this one up on the facedog...

Werther Report

 

 

That’s another adventure in the bag. The never-ending quest to find exceptional musical kicks took me to the place known as Malmö in Sweden. The way logistics go, this involves a quick stop in Copenhagen. The concept of being in two countries in such a short space of time hornswaggles me, any semblance of discombobulation at my age can be problematic.

I do LOVE to be places but the travel – the getting from A to ultimately B – not so much. As a necessary evil goes it’s just about worth the palaver but this one almost never made it to the end of Act 1. See if you can guess which daftie managed to lock their keys in the car, prior to removing the bags and tickets? Admittedly a wee flurry of panic ensued until I tried to figure out what could be done. As it is, someone from the parking area was able to call a “recovery” service. It’s very easy to get into a vehicle if you have the tools. And it’s a pricey exercise too. At time of writing that could be construed under a different type of recovery but the alternative would have been worse.

Last time I was out that way, I had to take a bus and a ferry but the new train is great.  That was 23 years ago, to see Dave Alvin, Scott Kempner and The Skeletons, a lifetime ago when my esteemed friend, Lennart Persson was still with us. We ate at one of his favourite restaurants, a Chinese joint called Kin Long on Radmansgatan. I’m not really big on this cuisine but I do believe this was the best example of the type I’ve ever had anywhere.

Reasonable weather and a clear schedule meant that a leisurely walk into town and a visit to Music + Konst. The main purpose of my trip was to see Hello Saferide. A packed Palladium treated Annika Norlin and the band with the respect that she should be enjoying across the entire planet.

At one point, Annika passed a container of “Werther’s Originals” into the crowd and it made its way through the auditorium and eventually up to me in the balcony. Per Hagred and I had been pointing and laughing at Weather Report compilations in Folk Å Rock earlier (FAR is the ‘mo equivalent of Mono in Glasgow). Now what was the last show that you attended where everyone got a sweet? The set was drawn mainly from The Fox, The Hunter and Hello Saferide and sprinkled with “hits” from the rich back catalogue. Due to logistics, I never got to say hello but getting a shout out from the stage elicited an aged fanboy frisson. Lennart was also a big Annika fan and it felt like his considerable spirit accompanied me on this final night of February 2015.

As well as the fantastic Andrea Kellerman, this version of HS was Cecilia Linné (bass, cello), Calle Olsson (keys, etc.) and Christian Gabel (drums). There was also an impromptu choir for “This Body”. Some folks made overtures lately that Reigning Sound is the best band in the world. While I do understand that consideration, my own notion is that the mantle belongs to HS.

The local predilection for Melodiefestivalen was a wee bit alarming but some semblance of an excuse is that Hasse Andersson, a local “cult” figure is involved. Apparently he had brought Doug Sahm and Augie Meyers to Sweden many moons ago but I doubt that fact would rub off on most of the people that are involved with this bun fight. It allowed me to discuss the merits of Finland’s representatives for this year. That alone will be worth keeping that evening clear to witness.

Hell, I might even vote. Like I did (one time only) for Lordi...

Photo from Kulturbolaget fb page.

Saturday next in Glesga...

Next Friday in Edinburgh...

So much to be hearin', people disappearin'

Thanks to Scott Cornish for the link to this...

Springfield from victor on Vimeo.

Hit Parade Frequencies...

Bar Stool Walker

Madrid - Three Weeks Time Ago!

The general nature of travel these days tends to gall me. Circumstances dictate that because of an abhorrent minority providing reason for the alleged authorities – every damn time I need to go through Edinburgh Airport, it seems that the means of getting there gets less close to the terminal every time. This time I took a tram in order to scratch an itch, it was very pleasant but unless the service is extended to run 24 hours then I’m unlikely to be a regular user. Plus I’ve you’re toting much in the way of luggage then that can be problematic also. As much as the logistics nark me, I’m up for anything that means I don’t have to drive.

So there I was, sitting in the Costa watching buses wait for the barriers to be lifted and lowered. A little ahead of the checkpoint, some tables and chairs are arranged to serve the outlet close to International Arrivals. They’re there to service those who are gasping for a cigarette I guess. Once they get to grabbing a coffee on the road to being able to “breathe” again. There must just have been a flight in because the cafe culture furniture is filling up with puffers. One of them, sporting a bright red toorie, excitedly attempting to light his coffin nail.

As airports go, Edinburgh is OK. The extending never stops though and the ways to fleece the traveller is increasing exponentially. The two hours free wi-fi evaporates and doesn’t assist when the flight is delayed. The tail wind fairies were off duty so I arrived around an hour later than scheduled.

Yep. I was definitely in Madrid. The evidence is there even although the recall is foggy. I was there for a little under 48 hours and hit the ground running. Getting to Sala Caracol just as The Wicked Whispers were midway though their set. All a bit to “britpop” for these ears but people seemed to like them. I’d never even heard of them to be honest and they sound exactly like something that would name themselves thus. I recall sharing a joke with someone about Supertramp but I can’t remember who, something to do with the hairdon’t action onstage. It's sort of like that Temples group, I don't get that either.

There was time for saying hello to a steady stream of compadres from all over. Then The Cynics came on and made like they do. The band is popular in Spain. That’s why they’re topping the bill at Go Sinner Go Episode 9. From there, a wee squad of us headed for Weirdo. My companions had tried to find it the night before but couldn’t. I remember the first time I tried to locate it by myself. T’was no easy. So I think the kids reckoned it was worthy of the reputation this fine establishment has. The drinks and the music were hitting any number of spots. From there to the mighty Wurlitzer and a 6am finish. I’ll spare you the finer detail of all that but as ever, more converts to the cause of both hostelries were made.

Most of Saturday was spent in a half-shut knife type state, not exactly hungover, more just outright knackered. It was a gas to go and view La Fiambrera, Ruth and Maite’s flagship store on Calle Pez. They’d just taken custody of the premises when I was there last and the transformation is nothing short of visionary. From there it was off to Bodega Rosell with Sara and Ramôn, the Vermut/croquetta combo jump started the engine a wee bit before a necessary siesta to get the blighter back on the rails. By the time I needed to rendezvous with the kids I felt almost human again. Almost being the watchword here. Ran into a whole bunch of familiar faces prior and après Dead Moon and it would have been nice to spend some more time with them.

Dead Moon were incredible. The final piece in the puzzle for me after seeing the documentary. Sure, I liked the records but I’d never seen the intense, undulating beast itself. Some sound gremlins ran amuck here and there but in all, rock and roll is seldom as glorious as this anymore. Fred has made incredible progress since his surgery last year. The fact that they’re playing at all is something but with this passion, it reinforces that sometimes this stuff comes from someplace else. His voice was the perfect howl from the intersection of Alex Harvey and Bon Scott. There was no “Parchman Farm” but maybe next time?

However, I had to be at Weirdo to experience La Hembra Alfa DJ, so the kids dropped me off on the way home. I swear the place was more packed than I’ve ever seen it but I laid off the “gintonics” and after an hour, the batteries were running low again. This was a dangerous segment of the night. Had I run into anyone at all, then I would have been doomed but after wandering into Wurli and not seeing anyone, I had the presence of mind to call it a night. Call me a lightweight – it was 3.30am – but I had people to see later in the day and I didn’t want to be ill. A rare case of common sense overcame me, that almost never happens.

So the bulk of Sunday was spent seeing friends including GHR impresario, Marco Padin back at La Fiambrera. From there, it was back for my bags and to head for the airport. Clocking in a little under 48 hours, this just wasn’t enough time. Here’s hoping that the next visit serves up more of that precious commodity.

 

Early Solna Primordial Ooze discovered!

A Pop Song

For some reason, I can't seem to post videos right now. Pain in the arse but most things to do with bloody computers are. It's time the sidebar links were sorted too but so far I've managed to procrastinate bigstyle on that score. Anyway, tomorrow is another month. I'm sitting here wondering how it can be three years since my dad left the theatre. The sands o' time be accelerating alright. Maybe this won't "publish" either?

Yes They Are...

Dead Moon Saturday Night

A NYC landmark requires your assistance...

RIP - Kim Fowley

RIP - Lisa Baumgardner Falour

(info via Tom Gould)

Is it really 2015?

So the purported increase in posts over the festering season never happened. The more positive news is that a little order has been restored to the bunker in that two recycling buckets of "debris" have been filled and disposed of. There are still some flyers up for grabs on facebag. Maybe we have to be "friends" for you to see it, I have no idea with that particular method of time-wasting any more. I can't face dealing with ebag or discogs or anywhere there are greedy bastards lurking.

Another notion is to start shedding records and CDs although progress with such a venture is likely to be slow.

Today is the last day of freedom and I'm mourning that a little bit but that feeling shall pass. A steady flow of information will resume. Just not today.

Two weeks from tomorrow night...

Out in old Madrid...

Rebel Girl in the 100 Club

Bozeman, Montana - Home of the Hits!

Taking baby steps with this blog malarkey but starting as I mean to go on...

If the individuals who tend to run things were half as reliable as The Nomads then things would be a lot better. You recall how The Sweet let their “heavy” side fly on the flipsides of their earlier hits? Imagine if BOC had gone a wee bit "Ballroom Blitz"? Well now you can catch a glimpse of what such a notion might have wraught as ”No Cops, Haul Ass” sees a release of a cut that was captured when Solna’s primo crew ventured to the Pacific Northwest in 1999. This 3 track 7” EP on Career is billed as The Nomads Vs Donovan’s Brain but it sure sound like they’re in cahoots to me. Ron Sanchez and co have been knocking out their patented brand of psychedelic nuggetry as long as I can remember. And we're not talking about short term memory here.

Career Records is an outpost of solid rock’n’roll and look out (honey) because they’re using Tek-nology. A Deniz Tek 45 with the self-penned “Crossroads” and a MotorCityfied version of Peter Green’s “Oh Well” on the flip is also just out and in dangerously short supply.

This take on the Mac also conjures up Eric Bloom and co. Career Records are good for you, never bad let alone evil.