The passing of Mose Allison just days after his 89th
birthday is yet another sign on the highway to the fact that there aren’t many
of the genuine innovators left. I’m perfectly aware that this is symptomatic of
us all getting old. I don’t appreciate the smart arse aspect of that being
pointed out but still, there is that cosmic certainty of inevitability.
Mose was, for a while, a shining example of living
history. That he was spared to a good age was absolutely to the advantage of
those of us who were able to see him play. Though I was aware of him, it was
only in the past 15 years that I really came to appreciate that he wasn’t just
some old jazz guy. It’s being reported that he was too blues for jazz and too
jazz for blues. In essence he was more than either of those pigeonholes.
I’d discovered an act called Parlor James on a visit to San
Francisco in 1996. One of the members was a lady by the name of Amy Allison.
Her voice was like nothing i ever heard before and I was captivated to the
point that I bought all the promo copies I could find in Amoeba Records. Some
years later, I contracted chicken pox in New York and found out that Amy
Allison was playing the Lakeside Lounge the day after the doc gave me the all
clear to get out of Dodge. Dodge being NYC.
A few years later the very wonderful Laura Cantrell cut an album,
“Not The Trembling Kind” and on it was “The Whiskey Makes You Sweeter” written
by Amy. Having asked Laura for contact details, I plucked up the courage to
cold call her and the rest is history, six weeks later she was here in Scotland
ready to play shows with Amy Rigby and ultimately to record with David Scott.
However, I digress. It seemed to be only right that I
investigate her dad’s work properly and it floored me. There had been versions
of his songs but being the singular artist that he was, the way to hear these
was performed by the man himself. I was lucky enough to see him perform too and
the last time. At Glasgow Jazz Festival in the Old Fruitmarket he tore the
place a new roof.
The one time I met him, I’m certain he had no idea what the
hell I was babbling about. He smiled and nodded a lot. My favourite recent Mose
story is the time that he appeared on “Later” and he declined to let Jools
Holland plink along with him. To me that's the measure of a true giant.
Mose Allison was a quiet cerebral man with nothing to prove to
anyone. He conducted himself as the archetypal Southern gentleman at all times
and if you never heard him then jeebus, you surely have a treat in store.
Amy sent this link to a cool obituary that explains in some detail just how important her dad is in the firmament o everything. I'm not about to say "Was".My condolences to my dear friend and her family at this time.
As you’ll no doubt be aware by now, Billy Miller left this
god-forsaken excuse for a planet on Sunday November 13th. He put up
a hell of a fight and in recent times I had convinced myself he was truly superhuman.
That he may well pull through because no mortal could really endure the run of
health hurdles this guy faced on a daily basis. So it was a shock to learn that
he he’d gone and perhaps the initial
feeling of loss was tempered with a wee bit of a relief to know that no further
trauma would befall him.
First time I met him was in the autumn of 1983 during my
first ever stateside. I’d been penpals with Miriam
since 1978 so we met up and hit it off, simple as that. Ours was a
transatlantic congress rooted in the fandom that had brought us together and
that no blighter was ever about to ever tear asunder.
The kids with Leo Schnauser, November 1987
And of course, we were hardcore Dictator fans when there weren't so many of those around. On my 30th birthday, Billy and
Miriam took me to meet Al Lewis at his restaurant in NY. One of the few times I’ve
ever been stuck for words. To Billy he was Leo Schnauser not Grandpa. The discussion moved on to Larry Storch as I recall.
Over the years we had many adventures. Not as many as I’d
have liked because some bugger decided to install a big pond between us so that
was problematic. Memories are a little
jumbled right now and trying to put this together, my head is jumping all over
the place. If it ends up making any semblance of sense then that will be more
by accident than any sense or notion of clarity.
I was looking for the story about the time he and I were on
a panel at Berlin Independence Days in 1988 but it doesn’t seem to be on the web any more. Greg Shaw stood up and told everyone that just two members
of said talking shop represented rock’n’roll referring to Mr Miller and myself.
That was quite an honour. You can see from the photo that they split us up in
the hope that we wouldn’t cause mischief. Did that work out? What do you
think??
That panel I was on about... Richard Boon, Some daftie, Jon Storey, ?, Ed Ward, ?, Sir Wilhelm Miller, ?
Them A-Bones at The Loft, Berlin 1988
The big European launch of the Norton Empire was at that same
BID event. Wolfgang Doebling had released "The A-Bones "Tempo Tantrum" 10”
on his own Exile Records and he brought the band to play during the event which
was the equivalent of something like the New Music Seminar crossed with CMJ. A
wee band from the Pacific Northwest by the name of Mudhoney was also in
attendance. Billy was tickled by the amount and selection of “baloney” (cold meats)
for breakfast that was available in the Pension we all stayed at. It was like
being at some crazy rock’n’roll camp where folks from all over came to talk
about music.
The A-Bones at Coyote Studios (?)
Billy Miller was the funniest, sharpest cat I ever
met. He had his finger on the pulse of everything. His perspective was based
upon an inherent grasp of the human condition. There was one situation that
involved a discussion about Bobby McFerrin
(I know) that I remember nothing about other than the fact that I
sniggered for hours afterward.
The last time I made it out to NY, Howard Thompson and I
visited Castle Norton and spent a fantastic afternoon there. I also got to
see them in my beloved Madrid and also in London with Roy and Cyril. The last
one in the company of Stewart Cruickshank who left us a year ago (tomorrow). Billy features in the Punk Rock USA documentary Stewart made so if
anyone would like to hear that then shoot me a message.
I've been looking through the pictures from B + M's wedding and I still can't believe we attended such an event. Talk about being made for one another... It boggles my mind to think of the way that Billy and Miriam
have had to struggle with illness and hardship these past few years. Folks this
good and pure and true should never be subjected to the gauntlet they’ve had to
run. It’s all too obvious that there is
no justice where such matters are concerned.
Mr Miller, Jay Street Fall 1983
Knowing Billy was such a privilege
that I can’t even begin to explain. Those of you who were lucky enough to
have met or spent any time with him at all know what I’m talking about. For
those that didn’t, you have the Alt. Smithsonian archive that Norton Records
resides over to investigate. The Millers have done more for the culture of
America that matters than anyone ever. Before “Americana” came to mean almost
nothing, Billy and Miriam were documenting what made their country great. When it actually was. If any dipstick can get us back to that then I'll take notice.
Despite what seems to be happening around us, the Norton vision is very much intact
and Miriam will carry that on. Joey Ramone only knows what must be going on in
what is left of her mind right around now.
Direct all your love toward that lady
for as long as it takes to at least get her on an even keel. Billy may not physically be around but he’ll never leave our
hearts nor or minds.
Very sorry to report the passing of my dear friend and total inspiration this shitty Sunday afternoon. Much love to Miriam and the family at this time we all hoped wasn't gonna come. And also to you folks who know what I mean when I say this was the funniest fucking gut I ever met and an utter gentleman always. More if I can ever think straight again later.
Arriving in Alicante the day everything kicks off adds a
degree of urgency to proceedings but it
also provided another glimpse of that small world syndrome. I met Rafa, a
Madrid native that has lived in Edinburgh forever. We must have been at the
same shows dozens of times but never met and share a whole bunch of friends and
acquaintances. It’s always great when this happens so we went straight to the
pub after getting off the bus to raise a glass (or two). That set us up well
but in the topsy turvy FUNTASTIC world, time doesn’t travel in a straight
aligned line like it does much of the rest of the time. Like when you go out to
eat at 9pm and all of a sudden it’s midnight and you realise you may well have
missed Shock Treatment. That’s the band, not the electroconvulsive therapy
however much you think that I might benefit from such a jolt or three.
As we boarded the UFO to head on out of this world
entertainment wise, I wondered what the denizens of “The Benidrome” must think
of the annual influx or do they even notice? FUNTASTIC XI was packed with even
more activities than ever. Meaning that if you could keep up with the pace then
it was perfectly possible that you could have no sleep for something like 50
hours straight. Not including the extra hour for the clocks going back. So we
arrived just before The Phantom Surfers busked their way to the stage in order
to close the opening party to leave the floor open to the death-defying DJs.
It makes my heart soar to see so many “weel-kent” faces. The
social aspect is perhaps more important than the bands but the sheer scope of
music delivered is mind-boggling, something for everyone and a wee bit extra just
for good measure. If you don’t care for what’s going down on stage then the
DJ’s will provide the soundtrack for whatever devilment you choose to get up to
out by the pool. The Pound to Draculin exchange rate was a little rough for we
Brits abroad because of the Brexit numbskullery but that didn’t hamper the
fluid intake none and you can’t put a price on this level of feeling that you
left that shitty old world behind for a bit. There are those that you really
wish were there too though. Those who could sure use a hit of this kind of
crazy.
Photo by Tom Ahawk
Saturday began quietly enough. A leisurely wander prior to
meeting La Hembra Alfa, Raccoón Robledano and the gang. I dunno, it seems to me
that these kids must feel like they have their grandpa hanging around but they
say not. I love them for that and a ton of other stuff.
JC3 / Photo by Tom Ahawk
The Johnny Casino Three were the best of the early evening
rock action for me. It tailed off a wee bit but I was too distracted with
everything else. It’s very hard to focus in this environment. The notion is to
just not try and retain what’s going on but then how would anyone find out that
they need to get their arses across to this annual blast.
I wasn’t too thrilled with The Ar-kaics records but live
they’re much more full blooded. From that point, they were the biggest surprise
to me. A really solid outfit that bear re-investigation and one that I would
definitely see again.
Zelatorrific! / Pic by Oklahoma Watt
Zelators delivered upon the four songs I saw them perform
less than a month ago. If the B52s had come from Akron then that’s just a wee
insight to what these folks are capable of. They’re working on their debut
album now so once that’s all in place, I think this thing could really travel. Damn
nice people too.
Las Munjitas Del Fuzz were next and they put the Mediterranean
into the Medway Sound and had Brother Russ Wilkins join them onstage.
Guitar
Wolf is a worthy concept in terms of performance art but for me, “musically”, that’s where it falls short. They sure know how to kick up a dirge but the
density of the noise is something I find utterly charmless. I’ve
tried. You might call it endurance but
it just strikes me as thunderously dull. Visually spot on but lacking any tangible substance. I like heid-boggling volume as much as the next
maniac but I find this lumpy and nowhere near as amusing as I wish it was. I’m aware that many will disagree, that is of course your/their perogative.
Photo by Tom Ahawk
What can I say about those Young Fresh Fellows. One of my
favourite bands since forever ago. I reviewed their first album for Sounds in
October 1985 – before many FUNTASTIC attendees were born – and have never looked
back. They are also my dear friends and they wedged a version of "THE NEXT BIG THING" into their set dedicated to me. I had no idea they were going to do that. These past three years that I have been fortunate to
attend this wonderful gathering of the clans, a band from the Pacific Northwest
has been the epicentre. I wonder who it might be next year?
So much drinking and dancing ensued following the Fellows.
La Hembra Alfa alerted me to this that Nacho de la Cruz had posted somewhere...
"Sí pero finalmente abrazasteis los cantos de sirena del moderneo y en
esas andáis aunque naturalmente reneguéis de ellos como San Pedro a Cristo,
pero compartís fiestas, festivales y demás codo con codo. Yo pensaba que había
dejado de molar desde hace años, pero viendo el sábado subido a la tarima de la
ventana del Funtastic a Lindsay Hutton con su esposa o pareja bailando como si
no hubiera mañana las putas canciones de toda la vida que estaba pinchando
parece que no, bueno sí, pero eso que me llevo."
It was nacho's DJ set what caused it. Possibly the greatest review I ever got. Viva Patricia!
Las Jennys - Photo by Isa Risa
It was already the wee hours of Sunday and nowhere near
enough sleep later, bound we were for Las Jennys de Arroyoculebro at Rockstar
Bar. A total highlight that just hit the spot. That wee wummin with the beard and the singer could cause a row in an empty hoose. Come to think of it "she" looks a wee bit familiar, don't you think?
Sunday evening was billed as Hallowe’en Pandemonium. To say that the collected
throng was up for all of that and more is an understatement. How Paloma and
Varo continue to be able to outdo themselves is nothing short of miraculous.
People come to this because they are fans of the organisers just as much as
they might dig any band that's playing. They trust the curation and they want to be in
attendance of the biggest party thrown in any given year. Cruising at the altitude FUNTASTIC flies at, experiencing is believing.
The Freaks of Nature were perhaps my hit pick of the final
run. Like The Manfreds channelling The Fleshtones Blast Off period. Paul
Manchester is convinced that The Cavemen are the greatest band in the world and
he even dressed up like one. I’m closer to the age of an
actual caveman and it was all a wee bit overwrought but the kids loved them. Like Les Grys Grys, they ain’t
for me but if it opens up a way for youngsters to discover this hooch then I’m
fine with that. Let me know when if ever they get anywhere near being as wild as Las Jennys.
Mummified / Photo by Isa Risa
The Fuzillis oeuvre is all over the shop but it really works as the atmosphere cranks up. An archetypal party outfit that get extra brownie points for shoe-horning a
version of Tommy Ridgley’s “Jam Up” into their repertoire. The Mummies were way
better than I expected and the ideal way to close the band action on the
eleventh edition of FDC. There was still
mucho dancing to do after that but I wasn’t able to stay til the death because
I didn’t want to feel like death on the drive to Madrid later that day. In this
fucked up world, there is no escape that can equal the outright pleasure that
is part and parcel of the FUNTASTIC experience.
The kids and some old daftie / Photo by Isa Risa
To all of the folks that
congregate from all over to make it what it is, I salute your stamina and ability to rage. To all of those who couldn’t make it this year due to
illness or whatnot, I hope that circumstances are different come 2017 and you
can beat a path back to the vessel that annually carries us on out of this
world. When on terra firma, we could be found in an excellent wee tea room
adjacent to our accommodation.
Florentine Salón de Te was often the place to be
and they do the most scrum-diddley-umptious mini jam doughnuts amongst much
other delights.
These serve as field recordings and shouldn't necessarily be indicative of how it sounded in the room or as a backdrop to the shenanigans taking place around any given performance. So don't judge any of the acts based on these. See them for yourselves should you ever get the chance.
Monday 31st October was the day we hit the road and headed for Madrid. More about that end of the adventure in due course... Howlin’ at the Hallowe’en Moon in my favourite rock’n’roll city in the world. What could possibly go awry?
I'm not sure who took this but they sure captured a great moment...
The Tenth Annual Wurlitzer Ballroom Bash just done ended.
Thursday was supposed to be a quiet one. It started with a
saunter that took in La Fiambrera to catch the SHAG exhibit. To see this stuff
on a screen and in books or even prints is one thing but in person, it’s truly
something. The much sought after “Spirit of 76” artists proof was there and the
originals are more vibrant than a supremely vibrant thing. Munster and WEIRDO BAR! were next and I ended up at Wurli while the show was still going full
pelt. This one had a hardcore flavour but all of the bands went way over that
ideal HC 18 minute set limit by quite a margin. I could hear the racket from
the street so that was close enough. GAS Drummers sounded particularly
reasonable from that proximity.
Thanks to the Jägermeister/Mahou/stellar
company combo, any notion of an early night hit the skids. I would never have
touched Jäger before I visited the Wurlitzer but their magic temperature
machine serves it at just the right viscosity for such a medicinal compound. And
who could realistically say no to those J-girls? I mean, really!?
So Friday was a little woozy and I was late in setting
out. A late lunch at Restaurante Cantalejo with Eva, Murky and Nickie was a nice
way to recharge. I recommend the albóndigas.
Alvaro Wurli kindly schlepped me along to see DEATH who were
playing at Sala Caracol. We got there in time to catch the last 4 songs by The Zelatorswho are the best “new” thing that I’ve seen in a long time. Combining the bass-tastic whoosh of Mysterious-era
Rezillos with The Comateens to arrive at a crazy cocktail of futuristically
backdated fizzy pop, I really thought they were good. DEATH on the other hand
were entertaining but not my Santa Claus by any means. I know the story, haven’t seen the film and the record I’d heard was at the Hendrix end of the
MC5. Imagine BŐC interpreted by Prince, good if that sort of thing floats your boat but I’d just seen and heard the very agreeable racket that The
Zelators make though. My judgement was (living) coloured.
Then all of a sudden, it was show time and to take in the
musical program that had been set. Over the next two days both Los Chicos and
The Boys would take the stage. I think there could have been a theme emerging
here...
Le Moto de Fernan are one of those spirited two person
outfits of which a little goes a long way with me. You’re familiar by now that
I have no attention span, right? I’d heard Juana Chicharro before when I fell down a bandcamp
rabbit hole one evening. They remind me of Desechables with a hint of Flamenco.
Relentless and damn good, their record is an accurate account of the atmosphere
they whipped up.
Los Wallas verge on the psychedelic and pack quite a twang.
For some reason they made me think about The Waterboys but that might have just
been the singer’s hat. By that time I’d had a few sherbets. They definitely enjoy
their Sergio Leone/Morricone.
The Chicos are nothing short of incendiary. We hear people
rattle on about bands being dangerous but these guys literally live up to that
epithet in the most positive sense possible. They were always great but now
they’re really cranking out musical kalimotxo that is obviously fuelled by the
stuff they neck in no small volume. Robert Rodriguez needs to cast the twins as
a kind of Cheech Marin/Tommy Chong on Pacharan in a Netflix original series
now. On top of their musical prowess, they are solid entertainers. The show
left everyone dazed. I offer the consideration that Los Chicos are
better than The Supersuckers were at the peak of their powers give or take a
song or three. There. I said it.
After they’d done, the inaugural Wurli blasting of The
Dahlmanns“Play It” and “Do You Want Crying” took place. Both sounded majestic
in their home away from home. Kent Norberg of Sator is also a member of The
Boys now. He was in the house and the last time I’d seen him was in Moss all of
this stuff happens for a reason and that notion takes on a whole new dimension
when one is pished. I needed to be somewhere sort of early so I left just after
5am, drinking water with the hooch really helps (thanks for the tip Jorge).
All of a sudden it was bloody Saturday. How the hell did
that happen?
When I eventually surfaced, I covered a fair amount of
terrain. Victor of I Wanna Management hepped me to the fact there was early
evening activity in (formerly Groovie) Mongo Sci Fi and Tiki Bar. They were
screening Animal House on the TV as mod and r+b blasters blared and I would
have liked to have hung around longer but time was literally slipping away.
Grabbed some fine hot pastry from my favourite haunt - El Cambalache - close to WEIRDO! and Mongo
then made my way down to Tres Cruces to meet up with the Robledo Crew. They
arrived just as the opening band started. Terrier are local pop youngsters with
a penchant for jangle and they sound like Luna in places. On this showing, they
have a healthy following.
Psychotic Youth had just started when we got in. Juancho
told me it was the first time they’d played Spain and this was a one off show.
Judging by the reaction, they’ll almost certainly be back. The Boys delivered.
I don’t think I’d seen them since they opened for The Ramones at Edinburgh
Playhouse. Great to see Kent Norberg of the mighty Sator front and
centre with his heroes, he was clearly having a ball as was the packed crowd. I
was subjected to a non-stop pummel as I tried to deflect revellers and have the
bruises on my arms to prove it. There was a hint of Mott marinated into their
performance of songs from their career. Uno highpoint was a local lass getting
up and singing "Brickfield Nights" with them. Another hoot was
Aku crowd-surfing. That gal is fearless!
Laura, you were well represented.
It is always a pleasure to hang out with friends and to meet
nice folks for the first time, some of whom are heading for Funtastic in just 3
weeks time!
As joints go, this one jumps more than it’s safe to think
about. 10 years in the ring and showing no signs of flagging, these shindigs just keep getting bigger and better. When I left a wee bit
north of 5.30am on Sunday morning, our hosts and hostess and the Wurli crew had
another fiesta to throw. And as I made it out the door a couple of punters came
in and broke into spontaneous dancing.
A total surprise and honour was to have NBT immortalised on
the birthday t-shirt. An extreme measure of success and muchas gratitude is hereby bestowed upon all who make Wurlitzer tick. Tick. BOOM!
Wednesday is our most personal party started with friends
bands, No Nipples and Odeon. The mythical WurliCrew will close the show, Wurli
shamelessly performing songs from yesterday, today and tomorrow.
If you want to attend more than one show, we offer a
discount of 5 € for each extra gig. After purchasing your first ticket, please email: 10aniversariowurlitzerballroom@gmail.com
to tell us what additional show you will attend, the discounted ticket price is
not interchangeable.
No excuses, the wonderful world of Wurlitzer awaits you...!
I've not long completed a mission that involved heading
south east from Moss Rock City to Risør, a picturesque town “doon oan the watter”.
Like Anstruther on steroids. The event was Fyrjam 2016 where Reine Laken (Clean
Sheets) were playing after a 5 year hiatus.
Given my advancing years, I
didn’t want to take the chance of not being mobile the next time they might
deign to play.
Line
Protestations of not being technically proficient fell on
(these) deaf ears. There was a genuine buzz when they arrived on the island - Stangholmen - where the show was taking place. These lassies have a presence and it’s a swell
spot. While the means of getting to and from the island might be problematic to
a landlubber like me, it’s a skoosh for the locals. And talking about locals,
the way that they support this venture could be a lesson to us here in the ‘K.
We ain’t united anymore (Toto).
4 gals, 7 songs (all covers). There’s no record to sell but there were some natty t-shirts. They do this for fun and to (seemingly) shred their nerves.
Four lifelong friends with genuine chemistry that bonds to make an honest, joyous racket that I will forever take over
utter dross like The St*ne R*ses that I genuinely believe couldn’t hold a tune
with all the hard drive action in the world.
Ingri
Reine Laken(alphabetically) is Gry Hartvigsen - drums,
Hilde Lokander – guitar/vocals, Ingri Østerholt - bass and Line Schibstad –
vocals. Hilde’s son Lars joined them for a romp through Green Day’s “Basket
Case”. The Laken include two of the most beautiful souls (Gry and Hilde) that
it has ever been my pleasure to become acquainted with. When I met the other two girls
on Saturday then “I got it”. The fact that they're all old enough to know better makes it even cooler.
There was a story going around that this and the show at Solbakken Fuzzfestival in Arendal this coming weekend (6th) might be their
last but I hope that doesn't turn out to be true because they’re absolutely playing for
all the right reasons. Not giving the danger a thought at all, just thinking of
the fun.
It takes a lot of
bottle to do what they did. And talking about glass vessels, there was also a
nifty wee pub called The Peterhead Bar involved. An after-party there led to
your reporter being able to overcome a 20 year old phobia.
And he’d do it all again in a heartbeat with quality company such as this.
Stangholmen Saturday Night! - Line, Gry, Hilde and Ingri
I never met Sandy Pearlman but he played an extremely
important part in my formative musical years.
An obsession with Blue Őyster Cult led me to discover a
group by the name of The Dictators. The only reason I picked up "The Dictators Go
Girl Crazy" was because it was produced by Pearlman and (Murray) Krugman.
Integral cogs in the BOC machinery that were flagged up by New Musical Express
scribe Max Bell. SP also produced the best Clash album “Give ‘em Enough Rope”
by giving them just that to sound less parochial and maybe appeal outside of
Blighty. Afficianados of said group will bleat mightily to the contrary and I
guess they’re entitled to their opinion however...
Pearlman and Krugman performed a sonic alchemy that created
a mutation of metal and what at the time was proper punk rock. Folks of a
certain age and persuasion know exactly what I’m talking about. They were able
to fuse The Yardbirds, Black Sabbath and the MC5 into something that has never
really been bettered. I think I was 14 when I first heard BŐC and they’ve
stayed with me throughout the journey. Like they have with many close
associates.
Without Sandy and his old tag team partner there would
likely have been no way that I’d have discovered Andy, HDM, Ross, Scott and Stu
Boy. Without them then you lwouldn’t be being subjected to this. I’d just
read a facebook post by Scott Kempner the other day that suggested the
prognosis may not be so good.
Condolences to his friends and family
at this time and profuse thanks to him for setting me off down this road.
I'm honoured to be amongst a host of zineage stalwarts here in the debut issue of Vulcher. Not available as a PDF or any of that malarkey. This is a living, breathing slab of print complete with those good old print fumes. This link will take you right to the place where you can score a copy (or three). Sam and Kelsey will keep you right if you have any questions about ordering. It's just 8 bucks with postage within the USA and maybe 15 to Europe. Anyway, please consider supporting Vulcher. That way it can continue. Issue Two should be out around the end of the year maybe. See that it does.
Alan Vega snapped by Howard Thompson on April 20th 2016
I was lucky enough to actually know Alan Vega a bit. My first
encounter with Suicide had been via the 1976 Max’s compilation. When the album
came out, it polarised anyone that it came into contact with. In the mind of a daft wee
fanzine editor, the duo became part of a holy NY quinity – Cramps/Dictators/New York Dolls/Ramones/ Suicide – presented alphabetically,
not necessarily in order of merit.
Howard Thompson had licensed “Suicide” for release on Bronze
in the UK after being alerted to their existence by Kevin Patrick who’d sent him a copy as part of their ongoing record swapping activity. I met H through
Ms Miriam Linna who was working for Marty Thau at Red Star. I’d recently made
contact with Miriam via Richie Teeter of The Dictators and had sent her a tape
of Simple Minds that she had played for Howard. Anyway, over the years, I got
to know Alan via HT and I always found him to be the consummate gentleman. The
first time we met, I believe, was the third floor of a place called Danceteria
in 1983 and many times over the years after that.
The best New Years Eve I ever spent EVER was at the close of 1990 in a bar
close to Alan and Liz’s apartment. It involved HT, Vega and I discussing the
best method of preparing a roast. How much more rock’n’roll could it get? We
were the only people in there. Everybody else must have been in Times Square or
wherever. It felt like the only people left in the city or even the world, aside
from the bartender. There was also the time that Alan weighed in to try and
save BBC Radio Scotland’s Beat Patrol. Scotland was always amenable to Suicide at
the time when many other places were not. Alan was perplexed when the audience
at Tiffany’s in Edinburgh attempted to dance to their “music”. I found that
baffling is because audiences in that city are not renowned for dancing to
anything let alone something as newfangled as these guys were.
Suicide played a show at The Buffalo bar in London a few
years ago (June 2007 as a warm-up for their Grinderman opening slot?). HT, Tony
Thewlis and I witnessed a sound check that was so mind-blowingly surreal as to make
me wonder if it ever actually happened at all. I saw them a good number of
times but this was Lynch-like in terms of electricity.
My most recent interaction with him was when Liz kindly put
together his recollections of the "Cubist Blues" record for the Light In The
Attic reissue. Getting her notes, one perceptive quote really hit me. “We were meditating
on soundand time was suspended.” It was so perfect,
so Alan.When I sent Iñigo
the draft, he freaked out at how succinctly Alan had nailed it.Another thing I recall was my ex-partner being
scared to meet Vega and then not being able to believe how nice a man he was
“in real life”.
He was and is and forever will be an extraordinary character
and inspiration that was locked on a constant trajectory to create.Seemingly unfettered compared to the
rest of us. Suicide may might not have set the heather on fire at the time but
once the blaze started an eternal flame was lit and those initial dreams burned
forever. The world caught up. How did that happen? And then there were his solo
records. Always breaking new ground, setting the bar higher and ever higher,
visceral one minute, heartbreaking the next.
An Alan/Liz/Dante project that was previewed at The Barbican
is in the pipeline. Recordings that Alan completed with Ben Vaughn and Palmyra
Delran will also hopefully find their way into the world over the coming
months. It won’t be easy to adjust to a post-Vega world. Who the heck is even close to being as qualified to scream
the truth at and for us now?
Saw a couple of barbs about the individual that penned this "fan letter" on the facedog. Sounded like he was conducting himself as per usual but by way of light relief, i thought I'd dust off this chestnut. I sent a copy of NBT to NME and it was returned torn up with this threatening diatribe. I guess I hit a nerve. His true colour was evident even then in the shitslinging days. Wish I'd kept the whole package. I could have hired it out to a punk rock exhibit in the portals where it was once villified. The punk rock that is. On IPC letterheaded paper but I don't think he was speaking for the company. For an added dimension, I imagine this thin-skinned charlatan reciting it in his comedy English twang. What a gift. The boy looked at ToeKnee, shook his head and kept walking.
Sorry to bludgeon you with a political message... but this is getting serious.
In just a few days we will be voting whether to stay in the EU.
Until recently I'd assumed there was no chance we'd vote to leave. However, recent polls seem to be showing 'Leave' and 'Remain' are neck and neck. Some polls even show 'Leave' leading.
You may have made up your mind and plan to vote (in which case ignore this letter), but if, like me, you've been complacent about the issue, it might be time to rethink. What the 'Leaves' have on their side is their unquenchable enthusiasm for a 'Great' Britain that they think we can revive - and several powerful media outlets to propagandise the idea. The Leavers know they can count on their demographic - primarily older people - to get out and vote, whereas the 'Remain' demographic is less reliable (and more complacent). And the Leavers have LOTS of money: seems like a lot of very wealthy people are anxious to get out of the EU.
I wonder why? Is it because many of the constraints on how badly you're allowed to treat workers have been put in place by the EU? Is it because the EU has insisted on environmental legislation which hampers the freedom-to-pollute of corporations and governments? Is it because the EU has established an international criminal court where all those people to whom we sell weapons might be called to account? Is it because the EU has tried to come up with some sort of humane response to immigration other than barbed wire and Trumpian walls?
I have a lot of misgivings about the way the EU is run, but they don't make me want to ditch the whole idea. I feel the EU is one of the only restraints on the kind of neo-liberal market fundamentalism that has seen inequality rising throughout the world. I feel that it has been a net force for good in promoting enlightened social and environmental agendas. It could and should be doing a better job at all these things, but to do any job at all it needs our support.
The only good outcome of this referendum is that it might remind us what the original mission of the EU was, and might motivate us to actually make it happen.
So...please vote. And please ask your friends to do the same.
