The Woolly Bandits-Woman of Mass Destruction CD Review

It’s hard to lump the Woolly Bandits in with other garage rock or retro psychedelic bands. Their new CD Woman of Mass Destruction (Citation Records) elements of many genres, more of a theatrical version of garage rock/psychobilly, psychedelic rock, surf, you name it, but it’s a BIG sound, not the pared down sonic noise associated with garage bands. This quintet takes full advantage of every band member’s talent, and blends it into twelve bouncy and entertaining songs. The Woolly Bandits got their start as the backup band for ‘60s psych-rock legend Sky Saxon. The Bandits’ bass player and spokesperson Rik Collins says, “This line-up has only been together eight months. It’s kind of a mutt the way the band started. We’re kind of like a bastard band. It started when I was playing with Sky Saxon.” Rik says. At the time, Arthur Lee (of “Love” fame) was touring with a young band backing him up, and Rik convinced Sky to follow suit. Sky and his back-up band went on to record an album and do several European tours. “I was the manager, bass player, musical director, and booker cause Sky was an old friend of mine I met in the late 80s, early 90s”, says Rik. Sky’s back-up band soon struck out on their own. The first incarnation of the Woolly Bandits imploded after recording an album called Say Hello to My Little Friend in 2005. Then fate intervened and Rik met powerhouse vocalist/future wife Christa, keyboard player Johnny “Keys” Langdon, and guitarist Tracy “Skull” Garcia. That left the usually hard to fill drummer position. After auditioning several drummers and turning up empty-handed, the band finally recruited Rikki Styxx through a mutual friend and the Bandits’ current lineup was complete. On Woman of Mass Destruction, this Inland Empire, California based band takes the garage rock/ psychedelic sound of the Seeds and embellishes it with a bit of Cramps psychobilly. Then they add a pinch of Hollywood a Go-Go theatrics for a complete rock ‘n’ roll experience that’s great on CD and even better live. The Woolly Bandits show is a full-throttle, Farsifa filled shindig, complete with Christa’s frenetic stage persona and occasional appearances by go-go dancers. Woman of Mass Destruction is garage rock, it’s mod, its frugging ‘60s fun, it’s sexy, it makes you wanna shake your booty. Each song has its own flavor. “Devil Doll Stare” sounds like X because that’s what the band was going for, according to Rik. As he and Christa trade off vocals ala John and Exene.”Watch Your Step” is punctuated with hiccup-y Dale Bozzio vocals, while the thrashy breathlessness of “Devil’s On My Back” keeps you waiting for the next surprise. Xylophone and a Vox Jaguar organ underscore the flirty “Cambodia Girl” And the CDs closer is a cover of the Specials “Gangsters.” Sounds like the Woolly Bandits have it all down -and then some. Woman of Mass Destruction is available from the Citation Records website

Lives Of Quiet Desperation - "The Good Girl" and "One Hour Photo"

Jennifer Aniston and Jake Gyllenhaal in "The Good Girl"

(A slightly different version of this review appeared on Modamag.com in 2002 under my other byline, Marianne Moro.)

Feisty but unfulfilled women have always played prominent roles in film and literature. In Thelma and Louise, they choose death rather than return to their previous lives. In Madame Bovary, the heroine suffers a slow spiritual and emotional suicide til her body finally gives out, too. In The Piano, she chooses a new life. In the Jennifer Aniston film, The Good Girl, the character of Justine Last does the right thing - even though both her choices are pretty dismal, she chooses the lesser of two evils. Her life of quiet desperation is punctuated by a few bouts of noisy desperation.

The theme of "The Good Girl" is that of the woman trapped in a routine and groundless life by marrying the wrong man. This tried and true formula was bereft of humor til Thelma and Louise. Like ”Thelma and Louise”, The Good Girl has its funny moments, but overall, it's a less tragic, modern extension of Madame Bovary. Justine (Jennifer Aniston) marries her schleppy high school sweetheart, Phil (John C. Reilly), whose saving grace is that, like Charles Bovary, he is utterly clueless. No wonder Justine is drawn to young, mysterious co-worker Holden at the Retail Rodeo, played by Jake Gyllenhaal. (Classic exchange upon their first meeting - Justine - "I notice you don't socialize much. Holden -"I'm a writer.")

The psychological ramifications of a vacuous marriage are the same for a man, I suppose; though he can't be called a slut if he seeks solace elsewhere. Most indicative of this emptiness is the scene where Justine has to choose between staying with her sick friend and a tryst with Holden, when a quick shot of adrenaline becomes more important than anything else.




There's a long road from the likable but flawed Jennifer Aniston character in "The Good Girl" to the creepy photo clerk played by Robin Williams in One Hour Photo. Both films feature dead-on performances by actors generally known as comedians. Both delve into lives of quiet desperation that eventually explode. For Sy Parrish in One Hour Photo; there is no respite, no one to go home to - well, no one real anyhow. Meticulously plotted and antiseptic as the polished Sav-mart floors Sy walks on, repression and rage replace the camaraderie of the “Good Girl’s” Retail Rodeo. In the big glossy suburban world the gap between normal folks is wide enough, but in Sy 's case, it's more like a chasm. Usually, you'd feel sorry for such a character, but here the ickiness factor is immediate and all consuming. Even the noble reason given for his actions at the end doesn't engage our sympathies.

Both films exhibit a colorless suburbia that unwittingly becomes a character on its own. The Retail Rodeo, the Sav-mart and the upscale hotel in One Hour Photo are vanilla bland. It's no accident empty lives are played out in such an atmosphere.

You Can't Get It on DVD-The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane

Following roles as a prostitute in Taxi Driver, and a heavily made up gun moll in Bugsy Malone, the prepubescent Jodie Foster seemed doomed to portray trollops on her way to adulthood. But before Jodie played the uber-intelligent mother hen to a bunch of wayward teenage girls in Foxes, (1980), she shed the pre-teen vamp look in a relatively unknown film called The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. Foster portrayed Rynn Jacobs, the quick-witted, independent daughter of an English poet. She’s 13 but she talks and acts like an adult, and lives alone in a big house with her hamster. Her father is no where to be found, and she hides this fact from the snooping landlady, Mrs. Hallet (Alexis Smith) and her creepy, pedophile son Frank (Martin Sheen), who has a rep around town for hounding young girls. It turns out Dad committed suicide and made financial plans for Rynn to live alone in a rented house in New England after his death. Based on a novel by Laird Koening, who adapted it for the screen, the film played briefly in theaters in late 1976/early 1977. Rynn spends her time studying Hebrew, cooking and listening to classical music and has little contact with other humans. In the opening scene, Rynn walks over a bridge one crisp morning. Despite the lovely coastline scenery, there’s a tense melancholy emanating from the screen. Somehow we know from the opening shot no one’s going to live happily ever after. Mrs. Hallet needs her jelly glasses from the cellar but Rynn won’t let her downstairs. She’s hiding another secret. You guessed it-there’s a dead body down there. It happens to be Rynn’s evil Mum, who paid a visit to in search of her ex-husband and fell victim to Rynn’s ultimate revenge. But our anti-heroine does have pleasant contact with other residents of the small town. Officer Miglioriti (played by Mort Shuman, who was also the film’s music supervisor) pays friendly visits to check on Rynn. His nephew, amateur magician Mario (Scott Jacoby), befriends Rynn and they become romantically involved. (Yes, they go to bed together.) This shot was the deal-breaker for Foster, who refused to do a brief nude scene. Her older sister Connie served as a body double. The nude scene is one of the reasons Foster reportedly dislikes the film. Funny how another 1970s film, Blue Collar, yanked from DVD release after a few years, also incurred the wrath of one of its' principals, director Paul Schrader. This seems to be a trend with films not currently available on DVD. Hmmm.. Little Girl, initially promoted as a horror film, has no gore and has more of a thriller/murder mystery vibe. The performances drive the film here; Jacoby and Foster make a likable teen couple during their few brief scenes together; the viewer will definitely root for them to stay together and thwart the abhorrent Sheen and his nosy mother. Sheen played a lot of edgy roles quite convincingly in the 1970s (Badlands, Sweet Hostage with Linda Blair), before becoming renowned for Apocalypse Now and his political activism. Frank’s sly manipulation of Rynn turns into downright cruelty by film’s denouement. Clue: by the end of the movie, she doesn’t have a pet hamster anymore. The enterprising Rynn, however, has the last laugh. The premise of a 13 year old living alone in such toney circumstances seems preposterous even today. Imagine what it seemed like in 1976! But Foster does it so well, we suspend disbelief. Of course, if someone made an updated version of this movie, the protests would have it shelved before the first showing. A 13 year old girl living alone! Where’s child protective services? Or perhaps Rynn would be a masked, young female version of Freddie or Jason, systematically murdering the town’s inhabitants. *Sigh* I miss the unchecked subtlety and creativity of 70s cinema. The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane had many different VHS and DVD covers, lobby cards and posters during its release. 

Duff McKagan's Loaded-Sick CD Review

Sick
Duff McKagan's Loaded
Century Media


I just finished reading Greg Prato’s excellent book “Grunge is Dead: The Oral History of Seattle Rock Music” and Duff McKagan is quoted liberally in the first few chapters of the book, along with the usual Pearl Jam and Nirvana crowd. Seattle native McKagan played in local faves Ten Minute Warning and the Fartz, plying his skills as a punk rocker before moving to L.A. After GNR, he moved back to Seattle and earned a finance degree from Seattle University. He's currently a financial columnist for Playboy.com and is on tour with his Seattle-based band Loaded.

Now that Velvet Revolver has imploded, Duff is back to his Seattle punk/metal roots. Sick, Loaded’s third CD, is better than McKagan’s post GNR solo CDs and a notch above the other Loaded releases. The 13 songs on Sick remind us that McKagan, along with Izzy Stradlin, were the no-frills bluesy, rocking heart of GNR. Axl added bipolar showmanship , horn sections, and psychodrama; Slash contributed guitar histrionics, but Duff and Izzy were the core of that band.

Sick is just a simple hard rock album, and that's a relief amid all the subgenre death and thrash metal that leave the basic metal fan out in the cold. Duff plays guitar, not bass, and sings lead. He’s got a raspy voice that’s fine for the material here. The tunes have heart and sleaze without going overboard in either direction. There's the obligatory heartfelt ballad IOU, an apology to his wife for putting her through rock ‘n’ roll hell, the pensive Mother's Day, and lots of songs about past encounters with skanky broads and backstabbing friends. “Sick” kicks off the CD with the line "“Well, I’m sick/Yeah, I’m sick of you/You’re like Typhoid Mary/Mixed with Asian flu.” It's safe to say Duff's lyrics won't be quoted on any Hallmark greeting cards soon. The unabashed rockin’ continues with Sleaze Factory, Blind Date Girl and Duff’s take on Use Your Illusion’s Coma, called Flatline. So all the required rocker subject matter is here.

The band’s name is officially Duff McKagan’s Loaded, at the record company’s insistence. Name brand recognition and all that. If you liked Duff’s contributions to GNR,Velvet Revolver (& the Neurotic Outsiders!), you’ll like Sick.

Film Review-The Squid and the Whale

The Squid and the Whale
Written & Directed by Noah Baumbach
Running Time: 88 Minutes Rated R

The Squid and the Whale is loosely based on the unraveling of director Noah Baumbach parents' marriage in Park Slope, Brooklyn in the mid-1980s. (Baumbach is best known as the co-writer of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.) In this fluid, moving comedy-drama, there is no neat, happy ending or high drama. The Squid And The Whale has much more in common with French films like Murmur of The Heart and The 400 Blows that explore divorce, coming of age and sexual awakening than standard American fare like Kramer Vs. Kramer.

Jesse Eisenberg plays Walt Berkman, an intelligent but troubled 16 year old who subtly idolizes his Dad, struggling writer Bernard (Jeff Daniels). Joan Berkman (Laura Linney) has taken up writing as a second career, and fares much better than Bernard, receiving more accolades with less effort than her estranged husband. (The character of Joan is based on Baumbach's mother, former film critic Georgia Brown.) The Berkmans are certainly part of the literary community of Park Slope in the 1980s. Even the sparsely furnished rooms in their home say a lot about the family. Instead of sports posters, their apartment is decorated with a framed still from Breathless and a one-sheet from The Mother And The Whore. The intellectual milieu seems not to add depth to the family's relationships, but to steel them in icier terms. When the parents call 16 year old Walt and 12 year old Frank in for a "family meeting", their lives are thrown into disarray. Not that everything was hunky-dory beforehand. Frank Berkman, played with conviction by Owen Kline, (son of Phoebe Cates & Kevin Kline) deals with his anguish in other ways. He drinks beer and masturbates at school. Disquieting scenarios, perhaps, but the staggering honesty here exposes the ugly truths not only in Baumbach's own story in the stories of a thousand other children of divorce. During a school talent show, Walt cadges Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd as his own. After he's found out, he explains matter of factly to a school psychologist that "I felt I could have written it so the fact that it was already written was kind of a technicality."

The Squid and the Whale succeeds on several levels. Baumbach's script is literate and, at turns subtle, heartbreaking and wryly funny. The subtle yet thorny ways parents and their power plays and idiosyncrasies effect children is explored with depth and conviction. Walt idolizes his father and is Bernard's only ally until Bernard alienates him. As any child of divorce knows, most separations are not over the top National Enquirer dramas; the emotions they cause are subtle and manifest pain in different and sometimes bizarre ways. One can't judge Bernard, even though he has no apparent likable qualities. We just take him for what his is, and we don't hate him as one would a villain because his grief is so nuanced and real. All the performances in this film are equally impressive, but Daniels had the toughest canvas to draw on since Bernard is so self-absorbed.

Once a fêted literary novelist, Bernard has hit hard times in his career, garnering form rejection letters and half filled college poetry readings instead of awards. He still manages to attract a literary groupie, bold young student Lili (Anna Paquin). Father and son both vie for her affection. Bernard is so caught up in his own world that he has forgotten how to accommodate or even acknowledge the needs of those around him, including his family. He accompanies Walt and one of his dates, good girl Sofie, to a screening of Blue Velvet, not realizing that the film might be uncomfortable for the girl.

Joan takes up with quirky tennis instructor, Ivan (William Baldwin), who is in most ways, the opposite of Bernard. He becomes Frank's hero and father substitute. While Joan seems like the wronged party, revelations later in the film expose her as equally guilty for the break-up. Baumbach leaves the film's ending open to interpretation, as an unexpected turn of events draws the family together. Tender, funny, flawed and poignant, the characters in The Squid and the Whale could be your neighbors--or your own family. The film's unusual title refers to a diorama at the Museum of Natural History in New York.

Tori Amos - The Video Collection: Fade To Red

Tori Amos - The Video Collection: Fade To Red Rhino Home Video, 2006 The Backstory Tori Amos transformed herself from a gawky young girl named Myra, a minister's daughter and a child prodigy on the piano, performing in nightclubs as a young teen, to the fiery-haired earth goddess of the keyboards, a gay and feminist icon, the mistress of oblique yet intriguing lyrics, and well, a just plain dippy broad to some. Late in 1999, I went to a concert at Jones Beach in New York that featured co-headliners Alanis Morrisette and Tori Amos. It was one of the few concerts my roommate at the time and I agreed to attend together. I was a Monster Magnet gal and she was a Billy Joel gal, but we found middle ground in Tori. My roomie and I waited at the bus stop to the venue with group of teen and twentysomething girls, some of them accompanied by a wimpy, metrosexual boyfriend. It certainly was a girl's night out; I even got my period unexpectedly. (I know, too much information.) Tori wasn't especially talkative that night, but just to see her at the piano, flowing red hair in the spotlight, crouched defiantly over the piano bench, was enough to summon Persephone back from the underworld. My review was simple. "Tori is a goddess,"I e-mailed my friends when I got home. Being an old metal/biker/punk chick from day one, this was a weird assortment of concertgoers to behold, much less join. Aah, the things I did for Tori. But Tori, you know, started out as a metal chick in the late '80s. Soon after moving to L.A., she got signed and released Y Cant Tori Read (see video above.) Matt Sorum played drums, and Rick Nielsen and Robin Zander sang backup vocals on one of the songs. A few years later, Tori dumped the Aqua Net and became the ditzy poetess of the piano we all know and love. Even musical prodigies fell prey to the big hair-metal of the 80s. By the time 1999 rolled around, Tori had long been the poster girl for post-feminist singer/songwriters in a way that Sarah McLachlan or Alanis Morrisette could never claim. Tori, you see, was balanced in her approach. She was worldly, bohemian, glamorous, arty, sexy (everyone-gay, straight, male, female could agree on this point) and obviously intelligent and well-read. Though her you could never be quite sure what her lyrics actually meant. Not that Tori has ever cleared that up to anyone's satisfaction. If an interviewer asked her about a song's meaning, Tori's explanation only complicated matters. Still, she was one of the more intriguing, literate figures in '90s music. Under The Pink was the first Tori album I bought. Icicles seemed vaguely to be about masturbation/sexual awakening, The Waitress about female rivalry. Cornflake Girl, while oblique to most, had a special meaning to me. "Never was a cornflake girl/thought it was a good solution/ hanging with the raisin girls/I'm going to the other side/giving them the old heave-ho/" I must have played this song 50 times in a row, crying til my blouse was soaked with tears. I had just moved from New York to my hometown of Chicago and was in a holding pattern, wondering whether to go to Los Angeles or back to New York. As a female archetype, I didn't qualify as an L.A. woman (cornflake) or as a N.Y woman (raisin). Rather, I was like Tori in the "Cornflake Girl" video, driving the truck and twirling on the gym bars while the cornflake and raisin girls fought over a tied up studboy. (Eventually I wound up in New Orleans, fashioning my own interpretation of a "cornflake girl.") Every Tori song means something slightly different to each listener. Since her lyrics aren't linear, they are open to individual interpretation. I'm sure someday a women's studies professor will teach a course on Tori's lyrics. Her fans are notoriously attached to her, although the hysteria of her mid-90s fame has waned. Her most ardent fans vent their fascination on websites and messageboards and in the occasional painting or tattoo. There's even a doll designer who based one of her first creations on Tori. While working as a production coordinator for a doll collector magazine in the mid-90s, I noticed that one of the fairy dolls in an ad bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain redheaded singer. The Muse A Spin magazine cover article on Tori in November 1999 caused quite a tizzy when Tori and the artist Pat Kochie took issue with some of the writer's fact checking abilities. Pat and her husband are still fashioning dolls. Contact them at patkochie@aol.com. So far this decade, Tori has given us The Beekeeper and Scarlet's Walk, two ambitious, adult works that demonstrate Tori is determined to grow as an artist, even if that means forsaking some of the emotional overload of her earlier songs. While The Beekeeper delves into autobiographical themes, now told from the POV of a 40ish married woman with a child, the obtuse lyrics are still intact. Tori still remains one of pop music's most evocative lyricists. She's less arty than Bjork and not as ethereal as Kate Bush. In many ways, her words connect more with listeners on a personal level because the emotions and images tell a story-even if we're left with a cliffhanger most times. The Videos Disc One Past The Mission-Tori leads a group of black clad women of all ages through a village in Spain as they receive bemused glances from the local men. Tori encounters a priest. The women lie down while the priest walks around them to join the men. And then the women make their escape. A straightforward video, not the usual surreal riddles we've come to expect. (Under The Pink) Crucify- Tori in bondage dress baptized in bathtub. Multiple Toris cheerleading in waitress uniforms. She peers through cut-outs prominent in all her videos from Little Earthquakes. On the audio commentary, Tori talks about Victorian gowns and the beheading of Anne Boleyn. I have no idea what that has to do with the finished version of the video. Jackie's Strength- Tori as runaway bride in a taxi goes for a spin around the neighborhood as groom laments. Scenes from Tori's life whiz by as she watches her neighbors and family from the taxi window. (Choirgirl Hotel) A Sorta Fairytale-An animated fairy tale on the streets of downtown L.A. Tori is not a whole person, she's only a head and a leg. Her suitor (Adrien Brody) has suffered the same fate as an arm/head combination. Their resulting love makes them whole by the end of the video An unusual combination of a story and special effects. (Scarlet's Walk) Winter--Tori at the piano. Another stark, all white video. She dances with a group of little kids who are wearing flower headgear, and revisits her relationship with her father. In the audio commentary, Tori explains how she burst into tears at one point she was so overcome with emotion and her make-up had to be redone. If you watch the last shot closely, you can see that Tori is still holding back the tears. (Little Earthquakes) Spark-- Stylish concept video with Tori as kidnap victim who escapes from car trunk. She stumbles through the forest while her kidnapper follows her. She manages to find her way to the road. There is a chance of escape-- but not for long. (Choirgirl Hotel) Sleeps With Butterflies- A video based on the artwork of Aya Kato features Tori in a variety of costumes, sitting on a mushroom, surrounded by-what else-butterflies. (The Beekeeper) Cornflake Girl-The American version of the video, filmed on a cheesy set that evokes the Southwestern U.S. Tori drives a pick-up truck while the raisin girls and cornflake girls brawl in the truck bed. Tori and the girls dance around the hapless stud as he sits in a bucket of water chopping up a carrot. Phallic reference? You're for dinner? Or both? (Under The Pink) Hey Jupiter--A distraught, smoky-eyed Tori is rescued from a burning building by a little blonde girl (an angel?) and ostensibly saved from her addiction, crisis, or abusive relationship. Or perhaps the little girl is guiding her to the afterlife. (Boys For Pele) Silent All These Years--In another grainy, white early video, Tori flings around in orange and blue miniskirt and rolls back and forth in a wooden box. A cute little girl dances defiantly against the stark background. (Little Earthquakes) Disc Two Caught A Lite Sneeze--I can't for the life of me figure out these lyrics. Pretty Hate Machine is another Trent reference (Tori mentioned Nine Inch Nails in These Precious Things), but I can't offer even a vague interpretation of anything else. The video begins with Tori rolling around on a floor covered with autumn leaves. A surrealistic ocean scheme keeps the lyrical riddle flowing. (Boys For Pele) 1000 Oceans--One of Tori's most decipherable love songs. "I know how the game Is played/ but I will be here following you." Tori, dressed in a black gown, sings the song in a glass box on a street in downtown L.A. Street people, quarreling lovers, and nuns pass by, some intrigued by the imprisoned singer, some disgusted. A mini L.A. riot occurs as Tori sings in her isolation booth, aching for human contact. (To Venus And Back) God-- See what happens when your Dad is a Methodist minister? "God sometimes you just don't come through/do you need a woman to look after you?" Rats scurry over Tori as she lies on the floor. We see scenes from various religious ceremonies, including snakehandlers, Kabbalah, and Hinduism. (Under The Pink) Bliss-- The obligatory live concert video. Tori and band engage in backstage camaraderie. Tori plays with a Teletubbie! A guitarist rides a bike in the hallway! Such rock 'n' roll decadance.. (To Venus And Back) China- Tori in grey bodysuit slithering on rocks by the ocean. A shot of broken china mixed in with the rocks is included for good measure. A sculptor works nearby, building a stone piano while Tori stares seductively at the camera and sings.China, an absolutely haunting love song, demonstrates Tori's ability to impart the intense longing one feels when separated from a lover by using disparate and deliberately obtuse imagery. (Little Earthquakes) Raspberry Swirl-- A bouncy and bass-heavy song that is an inch away from industrial. Tori follows a boy through his bedroom to a rave. She crawls through a tunnel. They end up at a dinner with kids in black wigs who turn into pigs. (Choirgirl Hotel-- her most underrated album.) Talula-- Captured by scientists, our girl is trapped in a plastic booth again, separated from her piano. (It's sealed in a booth next to her.) A scientist pokes and prods at her with scary looking medical instruments. Tori finally breaks out of the booth and runs to her piano. (Boys For Pele) Sweet The Sting- Our girl sings the blues, posing a sexual challenge of sorts to a lover. In the opening verse, the man in question struts in the room ala "You're So Vain." (Lyrical aside--So what is cinnabar juice, hmmm?) Tori and gospel back-up singers gather round the piano. Some behind the scenes shots of Tori and her musicians. (The Beekeeper) Pretty Good Year- Tori in her thermals sings the opening verse while sitting on an overstuffed chair in a white room. She jumps through a window, as glass shatters over the ivory void. Cut to Tori in bed, singing to her blonde lover boy, then dancing with a bunch of young studs in their underwear. (Little Earthquakes) Extras Cornflake Girl (UK Version) A plotless dream version of the video, loosely based on the Wizard Of Oz. Professional Widow (Remix) The Making of the "A Sorta Fairytale" Video Audio Commentary by Tori Amos

21st Century Punk Rock, Vol. 1 DVD Review

21st Century Punk Rock, Vol. 1 DVD
Attictan Records
Produced and Directed by Jackson Low


The title 21st Century Punk Rock, Vol. 1 sounds all-encompassing, as though it’s an encyclopedia of all things punk. However, this DVD focuses only on a small group of punk rock bands, from old-schoolers Shattered Faith to young upstarts like Homesick Abortions. Filmed on location in Southern California on an extremely low to nonexistent budget, 21st Century provides an inside look into the epicenter of a musical genre that has morphed from an underground life form to a homogenized mainstream force. In the opening snippet, Leo from the band Terezodu addresses this subject, noting that punk rock is now embraced by the masses and that even porn stars have Mohawks. “We’ve got to make people fear us again,” he says.

The interviews and clips that follow present bands, managers, fans and even a soundman who bear no resemblance to the cover girl and cover boy version of punk rock we see everyday in magazines and at fashion shows. From the Voids doing “L.A.P.D.” to the Krum Bums, Casualties, and Lower Class Brats, the punk here is fast ‘n rough and bears no resemblance to the cleaned-up pop punk of oh, say, New Found Glory. The bands represented are the descendents of the first wave of LA punk, i.e. the Germs, X, the Bags, and so forth. During one clip, you can almost smell the sweat and pot smoke as a promoter admonishes a bunch of unruly fans for fighting during a set. True punk rock minus the embellishments still exists in the States--mostly in Southern California, for some cultural and ideological reason. 21st Century Punk Rock, Vol. 1 provides a “slice of life” look into this scene.

You Can't Get It On DVD-Looking For Mr. Goodbar

Even though 1977’s Looking for Mr. Goodbar starred Diane Keaton, Oscar nominee Tuesday Weld, and introduced a very young Richard Gere to movie-goers, it’s currently unavailable for consumption by the American public on DVD. The seedy, sad but eloquently acted morality tale, set against the backdrop of the swingin’ Manhattan singles scene, was based on Judith Rossner’s best-selling novel. That book, in turn, was gleaned from the harrowing details of an actual NYC crime. The real life murder of teacher RoseAnn Quinn was even more shocking than the movie’s version.

The all-star cast features William Atherton, Richard Kiley, Richard Gere, Alan Feinstein, Tom Berenger, Priscilla Pointer, Laurie Prange, Joel Fabian, and LeVar Burton in addition to Keaton and Weld. The disco soundtrack (also out of print) included the O' Jays “BackStabber”, Marlena Shaw singing the theme “Don’t Ask to Stay Until Tomorrow”, and Thelma Houston’s “Don’t Leave Me This Way”. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll never think of that song the same way again.

Theresa Dunn (Keaton), a victim of childhood scoliosis, still lives at home with her strict Irish parents. She’s perpetually sparring with her Dad, played by Kiley in a one-dimensional role as the stereotypical domineering Roman Catholic father. Is a Roman Catholic ever portrayed as thinking, feeling person in any Hollywood movie? I loved the scene where he’s stomping around the house in a Notre Dame jacket while he berates Theresa. Talk about the screenwriter overstating his point!

Free-spirited stewardess sister Katherine (Weld) comes to visit at Christmas. She’s just married a rich Jewish guy who’s into into group sex, and she invites Theresa to their apartment to party. Theresa hangs out with them while they watch a porno. She seems intrigued by this, and soon she’s rented an apartment downstairs from the swinging couple. After getting acclimated to her dimly-lit, roach-ladden digs, she begins frequenting local singles bars, smoking and drinking and looking for one-night stands. Is her newfound wantonness an attempt to imitate her hot, confident sister and/or a chance to rebel at her strict upbringing?

Theresa loses her virginity to her married college professor (Alain Feinstein) and then dumps him. Richard Gere plays Tony, her on-again, off-again stud. In one scene, she matter of factly picks up a chubby furniture salesman for a one night stand. By this time, her rapidly deteriorating self-respect and sense of judgment are out of control. Theresa’s outward personality lacks any softness or vulnerability. This slatternly behavior contrasts with her day job as a dedicated teacher of deaf children. At night, she’s the opposite of the tender, patient woman her students know and love.

Theresa buys coke from a pusher in her favorite bar’s restroom. She’s unacquainted with drug lingo and barely knows how to snort the stuff. This is more depressing than funny because we realize it can only further enhance her downward spiral. While Theresa is sowing her wild oats, sister Katherine has an epiphany about her own lifestyle. After years of ditzy and irresponsible behavior, she gives up drugs, alcohol and promiscuity. This revelation doesn’t deter Theresa from her hedonistic path. Katherine’s warning goes completely over her head.

The final sequence in Looking for Mr. Goodbar is frightening in a very real way, partly because we’ve come to know the character as a human being, not just another tic in a body count. Since Goodbar was released in 1977, we’ve learned to expect gore and close-up sensationalism in murder scenes, but the stark realism of Theresa’s last moments is more disturbing than high-tech horror because it’s authentic, because it focuses on the victim’s struggle and not just the sadistic killer. And it takes place by strobe light in a dark room. I may have said too much, but even if you know that, the ending will still haunt you when you see it.

The men in Looking for Mr. Goodbar are all creepy, and I’m not talking about just the murderer. There’s Richard Gere in his first well-known film role as coarse Italian stud Tony. Alan Feinstein as Terri’s college professor/lover is standoffish and cold, and Tom Berenger makes his big-screen debut as the violent, sexually confused ex-con who does her in. Even “good guy” William Atherton gives a disturbing monologue about his parents having sex. LeVar Burton, in a small role as the older brother of one of Theresa's students, is the only noble male character. He punches Tony’s lights out when he harasses Theresa on the school playground.

In Looking for Mr. Goodbar, a woman who sleeps around is an emotionally confused victim, but by 1987’s Fatal Attraction, the lead female character was not only sexually promiscuous, but obsessed and violent as well. That’s women’s lib for ya!

A VHS tape version of Looking For Mr. Goodbar was released in 1997, and there are copies for sale on Amazon.com and eBay. There’s no word from any official source yet as to why it hasn't been released on DVD.

Wacky TV Horror Movie Hosts-Svengoolie & Son of Svengoolie

L.A. had Elvira, Chicago had Svengoolie. Radio announcer Jerry G. Bishop donned a long green wig, sunglasses and ghoulish makeup to become the wisecracking hippie horror host Svengoolie. He hosted “The Screaming Yellow Theater”, which originated on WFLD-Channel 32 in 1970 and ran til 1973. The guitar strumming Svengoolie performed skits and told bad jokes in between segments of grade C and D horror movies. Some of Sven’s skits included Carbon Monoxide Speedway and Svengoolie Street (clip below).

The show began each week with a guest coffin opener freeing Sven from his tomb. Local celebs like White Sox players usually did the deed, but even Bette Midler and Barry Manilow pried open Sven’s coffin on their way to fame. And Sven got away with lots of double entendres considering the show ran in the early 1970s. Sven sometimes “choked his chicken" (one of the omnipresent rubber chickens thrown around the set) and once brought on stripper Tempest Storm to introduce the evening’s film. Such R-rated shenanigans surely went over the heads of the 10 year olds watching, but gave their parents a chuckle.


Svengoolie Street



Mad Man Sven's Used Cars



Rich Koz played the Son of Svengoolie on Creature Features in the early 1980s, resurrecting some of the old gags and adding plenty of new ones. Koz still portrays Svengoolie on WCIU-TV in Chitown.
Say it with me now--BER-WYN!!! (a much maligned Chicago suburb that served as the butt of many a Svengoolie joke )

Vampire Carpets



Putting on the Boot

Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of L.A.’s Legendary Rock and Roll Neighborhood - Book Review

Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of L.A.'s Legendary Rock 'and Roll Neighborhood by Michael Walker Haight Ashbury, Greenwich Village, Carnaby Street and Sunset Strip immediately evoke memories of the 1960s counterculture. Laurel Canyon remains a secondary point on L.A.’s musical roadmap as far as mainstream observers are concerned. Ironically, Laurel Canyon had more of a verifiable creative community than the more famous Sunset Strip, as evidenced by Michael Walker’s history, Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of L.A.’s Legendary Rock ‘N’ Roll Neighborhood Walker deconstructs the history of the Canyon from its beginning as a playground for silent film stars like Tom Mix to the folkie era to the Canyon’s days as a gathering place for the crème de la crème of L.A.s 60s’ era rock ‘n’ rollers.

Morgana Welch

"Young Girls are coming to the Canyon", the Mama and Papas sang in 12:30 and they are indeed a part of the story here. Mama Cass is drawn as the earth mother of the scene, (Nash even says he doesn’t known what his life would be like if he hadn’t met her), while Michelle Phillips was the disruptive muse. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Joni Mitchell, and the Byrds were some of the enclaves’s most famous residents. Frank Zappa’s abode, a cabin that once belonged to silent film star Tom Mix, became the epicenter of Laurel Canyon’s social and creative community. An endless cast of characters visited the Zappa’s, from Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithfull to the ubiquitous GTOs, and Walker recounts their exploits. Pamela and Michael Des Barres, Kim Fowley and early 70s groupie Morgana Welch, who have probably been interviewed by most L.A. journalists and documentarians about the city’s rock and glam heyday, provide most of the background. Aside from Graham Nash, most of the interview subjects are record execs and scenesters like the Des Barres and Fowley, Crosby has only a few quotes. The Canyon's famous residents pose in front of the Country Store

Still, the book provides a nice overview of Laurel Canyon’s rise and fall. Not surprisingly, the community based on idealism and incense and hippie free love began to flounder after the Manson murders. The soulless, cocaine fueled excesses that followed in the mid-70s sent the artistic community into oblivion. While Laurel Canyon doesn’t deliver much in the way of new or startling information, it does serve as a good reference point for younger readers and those unfamiliar with the inner machinations of L.A. rock history.

Ace Frehley Co-Wrote This Gem

For Crazy Joe & the Variable Speed band. “Crazy Joe” aka Joe Renda, went on to produce the Jerky Boys. Released on Casablanca Records in the early 80s, here’s the cheesy video for this Dr. Demento fave about the hapless “Eugene,” who “sticks his hands in fans for fun”

Bang Your Head: A Fan Looks At Heavy Metal’s History

Director Sam Dunn hangs out with Ronnie James Dio

This review first appeared on Rock Confidential.com in May 2006 under my other byline, Marianne Moro.

Metal: A Headbanger's Journey, an hour and half foray into the world of heavy metal music from a fan’s point of view, screened at the American Film Institute’s Music Documentary Series at L.A.’s Arclight Theatre in 2006. Directed by Sam Dunn, a 30 year old Canadian anthropologist and metal fan, it's chock full of metal stars, near-stars, and (sometimes unintentional) humor. Even if you don't like metal music, there's plenty here to keep you amused. The director’s enthusiasm, in-depth research, and the cross-section of wacky interviewees keep you riveted. A 2-DVD version of the film is available from Warner Home Video Metal:A Headbanger’s Journey is the definitive metal documentary. It’s unusual to see a thoughtful, poignant and sometimes funny film about this much maligned genre. What’s most impressive are the charts that Dunn uses to track the various genres and subgenres. The general public’s perception that metal is one-dimensional music for dummies is disproved here. Dunn’s chart lists a dozen genres, including prog metal, death metal, pop metal, and glam. It’s not until you see the charts on the screen that you realize heavy metal has spawned and mutated into a dozen viable subgenres, each with its own distinct, sound, look and fan base. I won’t get into too much detail about the interviews themselves. The element of surprise plays a part in a few of them, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for those planning to see the movie. We learn about the tritone, “the devil’s music” and how it was banned in medieval times and later incorporated into metal. The stars range from Bruce Dickinson, Tony Iommi, Rob Zombie, Alice Cooper, members of Slipknot and Lamb of God and the infamous Norwegian satanic metal bands, to Lemmy, Geddy Lee, and Ronnie James Dio. Ronnie offers several good-natured digs at Gene Simmons and explains how he adapted the devil’s horn symbol from his Grandma!! Angela Gossow, the first female vocalist to adapt the Cookie Monster growl, Doro, and members of Girlschool & Kittie round out the female contingent. The hair metal section is mercifully brief. We get an interview with Vince Neil and a KNAC guy commenting on the groupie scene of the time. Professor Deena Weinstein and rock crit Chuck Klosterman provide academic explanations of metal’s popularity. Klosterman, the author of Fargo Rock City :A Heavy Metal Odyssey in Rural North Dakota, bears a slight resemblance to Austin (Yeah, Baby) Powers, and has an infectious enthusiasm for metal that matches Dunn’s. Tom Araya of Slayer gets in the best quote of the movie regarding “God Hates Us All.” And this being metal there are a few unintentionally funny, Spinal Tap-ish moments, courtesy of the Waken Open Air Festival in Germany and the Norwegian black metal groups. The film features quite a cast of characters. I kept waiting to hear from Marilyn Manson, but he wasn’t included. Seems to me he would be a good addition to any discussion about music and evil. Maybe he wasn’t metal enough, who knows? Dunn even talks to a violence researcher about death metal band Cannibal Corpse. For those who don’t know, Cannibal Corpse album covers are low-rent Hieronymus Bosch parodies, with lots of cartoon blood, exploding flesh and skeletons. Aside--when I reviewed music back in NYC, Roadrunner Records sent me postcards with CC’s album covers on them. The music director of the company I worked for, a born-again Christian, would always very discreetly turn them face down when putting them on my desk. No documentary on heavy metal would be complete without a clip of Dee Snider testifying before the senate committee on “dirty” rock lyrics? Snider is a pretty sharp guy, despite his outlandish onstage persona, and Dunn’s interview with him proves this. The metalhead audience in attendance booed heartily when Tipper Gore appeared on the screen. That whole “Washington Wives” fiasco now seems like a bad SNL skit. Amazing how all the PMRC nitpicking about heavy metal has really helped eliminate “naughty” lyrics. Yeah, right. Now we have hardcore rap at the top of the charts, with lyrics that are eons worse than anything Twisted Sister could envision. By the way, you'll never guess who refused to be interviewed for the film-err-who wouldn’t let her husband be interviewed... Official site: Headbangers Journey Dunn also directed the documentary Global Metal

Saxon-Into The Labyrinth CD Review

Saxon’s Into the Labyrinth is brewed with the same formula that’s established them as as one of the “New Wave of Heavy Metal” bands that dominated UK metal in the early 1980s, along with Iron Maiden, Diamond Head, Tygers of Pan Tang and Girlschool, among others. Saxon have remained a steady fixture on the UK and European metal scene since then. One of their early albums was called “Denim and Leather” and that’s a good way to categorize their audience and their sound. Technically speaking, though, Into the Labyrinth's combination of unpretentious anthems like “Live to Rock ” and sinister operatic sagas like “Demon Sweeny Todd” are more for the earthy denim crowd than leather-clad types. Vocalist Biff Byford has a powerful voice that would command your attention even if he sang about gum wrappers blowing across the lawn. He’s in the same league as Halford, Bruce Dickinson, and Ronnie James Dio. In their 32 year history, Saxon did veer off to pop metal for awhile, but quickly regained their senses and returned to their signature sound.

Into the Labyrinth covers all the arena rock/operatic rock/bluesy basics that dominated metal in the early days. There’s nothing groundbreaking here, but that’s not the point. It’s all about taking a tried and true approach and making it better, faster and stronger. The CD opener “Battalions of Steel” begins with an ominous rumble and soaring anthemic chorus, then escalates with Biff Byford’s soaring vocals. His pipes are in great form, no wear and tear here. “Live to Rock” is self-explanatory, and perfect for head banging kids in the front row feigning air guitar “Valley of the Kings” traverses the same territory as Maiden’s “Run to the Hills”. Byford and guitarist Paul Quinn continue to produce the quality evergreen metal on Into the Labyrinth that defies trends and gives the true fan something to sink their teeth into-over and over again. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

And the Indie1031/Jonesy’s Jukebox Withdrawal Pangs Continue…

Artwork by Shepard Fairey thegiant.org

It’s going on 2 weeks now since Indie1031 and Jonesy's Jukebox went off the air, and I automatically glance at the clock at 12 bells. I mean 12 noon. And feel a wave of nostalgic sadness washes over me. In December 2003, I received a voicemail message from my boyfriend. Only his voice wasn’t on it. His cell, instead, was picking up something off the car radio. The recording was staticy and jumbled, and I could understand only bits and pieces. I pressed the cell phone against my ear. It was an English blokes singing something about “Don’t be a mug” Wait! It sounds like Jonesy, I thought…no, it can’t be! He’s doing a radio show on this new station? I’d been a Pistols fan since high school, with a special affection for Jonesy. I even had his two solo CDs. I was ecstatic! A few of my friends had waxed rhapsodic about hearing the Ramones and the Sex Pistols on 1031 frequency, so I turned on the radio. Now for an old person, this was unbelievable. In the 70s and 80s you couldn’t hear punk like the Pistols or X, much less Black Flag, except on college stations or once a week specialty shows on mainstream radio. Yeah, you could always listen to your CDs or the punk radio station on AOL, but listening to real punk on a terrestrial radio station while driving to work--NEVER! So, in Jan. 2004, Indie had no DJs or shows. Jonesy’s first show was only an hour, then expanded to 2 hours. He sounded so nervous on the first show and couldn’t really pronounce three properly--it sounded like “free". As time went on, of course, Jonesy evolved from a lovable bumbling bloke to the Pontiff, holding forth about life, love, and nonsense. He played Sweet songs other than Little Willy, novelty records by Diana Dors, and long-forgotten artists like Jobriath. I almost fell off my chair during every other song those first weeks. Soon after, he started interviewing people, initially only on Fridays. Jonesy’s interviews went against everything you ever learned in journalism school, and that’s why they were so funny and memorable. Ian Astbury was his first guest, and then he interviewed everyone from Vidal Sassoon to Lemmy, Shepard Fairey to old bandmates John Lydon and Paul Cook, Owen Wilson to C.C. Deville of Poison. Jonesy’s hysterical bits about nothing in particular were legion. “Did you ever think about not thinkin’?” he pondered philosophically one day. Somebody needs to compile a webpage and/or audio compilation of Jonesy’s words of wisdom. After e-mailing friends about the show daily, I finally relented and devoted a Jonesy webpage to daily reports from June 2004 to April 2006. Likewise, Stuart’s Jonesy blog continued til the show’s final days. Also, Chris and transcriber Floratina kept track of the shows at the Alternative Jukebox Jive Blog. Other celebrity DJs followed Jonesy’s lead. We had Camp Freddy on Saturday nights, led by Dave Navarro and Billy Morrison, and Henry Rollins’ Harmony in my Head. Henry being Henry, he talked as much as he played music. And his verbal sparring with assistant Heidi May was beyond hilarious. Some days, I spent every waking moment with Indie in the background and could barely get any work done, it was so interesting and distracting. What song would they play next? What celebrity would show up on Jonesy’s Jukebox or Camp Freddy? Pamela Des Barres hosted a Valentine’s Day show one year. Fabled A & R guy John Kalodner had a show for a few weeks. I woke up Sundays with Watusi Rodeo and went to bed with The Suicide Girls (well, not literally! Get your mind outta the gutter!) with Mr. Shovel’s Check One Two sandwiched in between. Aaah, memories. I won tickets to the first Indie concert at the Avalon from the station’s metal show before Jackie hosted it. The porn star who was co-hosting with the original DJs answered the phone when I called. Having a porn star on a metal show was the big thing in 2004-2006. As time went on, the shows evolved--or devolved-- and lost some of their sparkle. Maybe the novelty just wore off. It got to the point where there were too many specialty shows. Did we really need a mash-up show? Indie was too good to keep to myself, so I found people who loved it as much as I did. I discovered the infamous blog on the Indie site in 2005, and the Indie Yahoo Group. Later, some Jonesy’s Jukebox devotees formed a MySpace group called the Blogstars. There were outings to see The Filth and the Fury at the John Anson Ford Amphitheatre, Camp Freddy at the Key Club and other Indie sponsored shows. I have so many more Indie inspired stories and memories, but I’ll leave it at that or I’ll be typing all night. But as George Harrison sang, all things must pass, and the radio station I knew and loved succumbed to the corporate meanderings it once railed against. Now, it’s a Spanish language station “El Gato”. I tuned in one day. It sounded like Mexican polka music. Very sad. I shut the radio off and put on a B-52s CD instead. Indie remains online, sort of, playing the same mix of late ‘70s/early 80s punk they did at the beginning of their run. Some of the DJs have agreed to continue their weekly shows online, according to the revamped Indie website. Jonesy’s not among them. But it’s just not the same. Entravision and the ratings police just broke up that old gang of mine. More on the demise of Indie 1031-- LA Weekly Hitfix.com Indie Online

You Can't Get It On DVD-Blue Collar

Paul Schrader’s Blue Collar, a 1978 film about down on their luck autoworkers and corrupt unions, has gotten lost amid all of the writer/director’s other efforts (Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, Affliction, Hardcore, The Comfort of Strangers, etc.). Like Schrader’s other films, Blue Collar is lucid, powerful and depressing--almost too “real” for its own good. We all know work sucks, but in Blue Collar, it's soul-battering and ugly. The bosses at a Checker Cab plant in Detroit treat workers like dirt; their union doesn’t help them much, either. But money woes are the straw that breaks the camel’s back for the film’s protagonists--Jerry (Harvey Keitel) needs to buy his daughter braces , Zeke (Richard Pryor) is in trouble with the IRS, and Smokey (Yaphet Kotto) owes money to a loan shark. Pryor gives a riveting performance as opinionated loudmouth Zeke. He tells off his union rep about a broken locker and that comment snowballs into a scheme that gets the three friends in serious trouble. During a night hanging out with prostitutes at Smokey’s pad, they concoct a plan to steal money from the local union headquarters. The burglary scores only a few hundred dollars but the friends find an incriminating ledger full of high interest loans the union has made. The auto union announces the theft, claiming the amount stolen as $10,000 to collect on insurance. The trio attempts to blackmail union officials, but they’re ill-prepared for the Machiavellian twists and turns that come next. They find themselves caught in a web of pissed off FBI agents, union reps and police. What began as a simple theft turns into a deadly game that turns the friends’ lives upside down and pits them against each other in a every man for himself scenario. Zeke’s the only one who survives the web of deceit by turning into the type of person he detested at the beginning of the film. The film got good reviews, but languished at the box office. Richard Pryor’s star turn confused some people. In the late 1970s, Pryor was at the top of his game as a comedian, and a major dramatic role in a downbeat film didn’t fit in with his irreverent stand-up persona. A few moviegoers probably walked into the theater expecting a foul-mouthed comedy and got a morality tale filled with dirty words instead. Blue Collar boasts solid performances and a script that may be too heavy-handed for some tastes. Screenwriter Paul Schrader also directed this film, and he has said in interviews that the film’s stars fought behind the scenes during production, and Schrader himself seems to have disavowed the film. It was released on DVD by Anchor Bay in 2000, but has been “discontinued by the manufacturer”, according to Amazon.com. Why it’s currently unavailable on DVD is anybody’s guess. Ownership issues? Too controversial? Lackluster sales? 

"Honey, Doggone It, I Depend Upon It.."

Robin McNamara’s catchy bubblegum tune “Lay a Little Lovin'On Me” was a Top 20 hit in 1970. Dig his tunic, bellbottoms and long flowing locks in this clip from a local TV show in Cleveland. “GET THE GIRLS SINGIN”







Robin plays the oldies circuit from time to time. Visit his official site here.

Cynthia Plaster Caster Interview

Cynthia in the early 1970s

This interview originally appeared on Rock Confidential.com in March 2004. 

The term “groupie” is now part of the American lexicon. When it’s even  included in Microsoft’s spellcheck, you know it’s legit. Cynthia Plaster Caster, along with her partner, Diane, achieved lasting infamy as “The Plaster Casters of Chicago”, known for their inventive modus operandi of casting rock stars’ cocks in alginate and preserving the sculptures for posterity. Unlike most of today’s groupies, Cynthia has more to show for her hard work than a possible quickie marriage and sticky divorce. She affectionately refers to her plaster casts as her “babies” and her works have been featured in several art exhibits. Cynthia, like her friend and fellow ex-groupie /current writer Pamela Des Barres, is a pop culture icon. An amiable and engaging interviewee, Cynthia is currently involved in a myriad of projects, including her non-profit organization, CynthiaPCaster.org, her personal website, CynthiaPlasterCaster.com, and she's still casting in her home town of Chicago.

Origins

JB- How did you come up with the idea for your artistic endeavor, the plaster casts? I read that it was originally for a college art project.

CPC- Umm, I never planned to make a living out of it or have it be what it turned into. I was just trying to get laid.

JB- That’s how a lot of people start their careers.

CPC- You know that’s true. It's certainly how rock stars start their careers. It was an art project that gave me the idea gave me a way of starting up a conversation with Paul Revere and the Raiders about their penises. What I was looking for was an excuse to talk about it. You know when the subject would arise then maybe something else would rise! That would be responsible for the seduction because I just wasn’t capable of it. I was too shy and dorky. And that’s what did happen. I didn’t make a plaster cast. I just got laid.


JB - What was the first rock band you met?

CPC- The Rolling Stones, in 1964 when they were recording 12 by 5 in Chicago. They were practically unknown in America.

JB - What was it like meeting them?

CPC- That’s really what got me going in the groupie groove or wanna be groupie groove. It was so easy. The way I did it was I figured out what hotel they were staying at and showed up at the hotel and stood outside with maybe 4 or 5 other girls and waited for them to arrive and there they were in the flesh, walking. I couldn’t believe it. They were in a taxi; they didn’t even have a limo then.

JB - I bet it was easier to met rock stars in the ‘60s and early ‘70s.

CPC- It only was easy in the first few months. Then the girls just kept multiplying. That’s what made me realize that I have a lot of stiff competition here and I’ve got to make myself stand out from the other girls. There are 25 girls standing at this guy’s hotel room door. These are 25 girls that managed to get past all the security. You have to think of something and in my case it had to be goofy.

JB- But it worked! Didn’t you have a business card that you showed the guys?

CPC- That was all part of the goofy shtick. I thought it would be funny if we were traveling sales women with a suitcase full of materials none of which I knew how to use.

JB-Now tell me about your first plaster cast. Now who’s job was it to get the guy "excited?" Was that your job?

CPC- At that point, in the beginning when I got the idea for the art project there was no designated plater. (That’s what I call the fluffer.) There was no designated anything. We were just 2 girls that were running around trying to get laid. As we had a few experiences with bands figuring out how to cast them, we decided to designate roles and because I learned how to mix the mold, I would be the mold mixer. It was too expensive for me to also try to teach somebody to be a mold mixer and my girlfriend Diane at that time had developed a reputation for giving really good head. Automatically, it was logical that she should be the plater. And I hardly ever got laid as a result via plaster casting until later, ironically.

JB -You were to busy mixing the mold, doing the actual casting work.

CPC- It’s really a good idea that there be two girls or two people working on it. I’ve tried double roles if I’ve had the hots for somebody and they had the hots for me, but it’s really not a good idea for the plaster cast.

Jimi Hendrix

Jimi Hendrix’s cast was an unbelievable dream come true. It was their first time in Chicago and they were just the hottest band around. We went to the hotel, (me and Diane and my friend Marilyn, who’d never seen a dick before. She (Marilyn) later became a born-again Christian.)
We even rode the elevator with them instead of climbing the fire escape like we usually did. Like everything went pretty right. I had the hots for Noel Redding who I really wanted to be with, so I cast Jimi and I had sex with Noel. It was a really memorable experience.

The Monkees

I tried to cast Peter during the time I had discovered dental mold and I didn’t know how to use it. Just as I was opening one the can--it was like an old-fashioned Planters’ Peanut type can-- I cut my finger on the edge and cut it so bad so bad it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Mickey Dolenz had to tourniquet my middle finger. I should probably have gone to the hospital, but it all went well with the finger. No cast of Peter, though. I never really got to see what he was capable of. He really liked being naked. He was so cute-and he looked damn good!

Groupies Today

JB- A few months ago I reread Pamela’s book “I’m With The Band” and when I read about your experiences and Pamela’s it seems like so much fun. Nowadays for girls who want to be groupies there’s so much competition. Girls are having plastic surgery at 17 and it’s a whole different scene.

CPC- Yeah, you know what’s wrong with it? There also was competition and cutthroating in there too. My problem is that the girls nowadays don’t seem to be so much fans of the music the way a lot of us were back then.

JB- It seems that a lot of the groupies who wind up going off with the band members have never listened to a note of the guy’s music.

CPC- Yeah, there have always been starfuckers, but there are more now. I dunno- and I think (they are) fairly common types of girls. They are not very interesting people, with a few exceptions. Oddly enough, I think Winona Ryder and Courtney Love are the only two interesting super groupies around. There are all different ways to be groupies. There are what I call legitimate groupies.

JB- Like journalists? (OK, now you know. I confess!)

CPC- Exactly. Journalists. And wives of other members of certain bands. I’ve been around girls married to a band member and they’ll be hovering around somebody else in the band and claiming “I am not a groupie.”

JB- They’re probably the worst kind-the ones that won’t admit they’re groupies.
CPC- The ones that are in denial are always the worst ones. What is the problem with declaring yourself a groupie when you are one? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s what you are.

JB- Nothing is wrong with wanting to have sex with cute guys.

CPC- Exactly. What’s weird about that? The only people who criticize groupies are rock stars that are mad that they aren’t getting enough groupies or people that are jealous that they’re not groupies.

Tit Casts

The latest I’ve done belongs to Karen O. of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. She’s lovely, just an awesome performer. I’ve been doing that doing that for a couple years now. I’ve been doing more breasts than dicks lately. Kind of catching up for lost time. Girls are more willing to do it than guys, Girls know pretty much how they are going to come out and guys aren’t sure how they’re gonna stand up to Jimi Hendrix.

Zappa

JB- Have you had any gallery exhibits of your work?

The first one, which was captured in “Plaster Caster-The Documentary” happened in New York. in 2000 at Thread Waxing Space. It was one of the best days of my life. I just so wish that Frank Zappa was still alive because this is what he dreamed about for me, too.

JB-They’ll never be anyone else like him.

CPC- Not in our lifetime doll. Everything I do I dedicate to him.

JB-When did you first met Frank?

CPC- I met him in ’68. He was on tour with Cream. I was chasing Eric Clapton trying to get him to pose for us. Eric said “Oh yeah sure, I might do it, but I have a friend who might want to do it more..It’s Frank Zappa." Frank came over the next night to Eric’s hotel room, asking me and Diane some questions. Neither of them wanted to be cast. Frank was just really interested in what we did because he was writing this piece for Life Magazine about the new pop culture. And we told him what I was dreaming about-having an exhibit and I wrote diaries and I did drawings. He came back to Chicago and said, “I was thinking about what you do and I’d like to help you.” Frank was doing what I’d like to be doing with Cynthia P Caster.org. He wasn’t doing it in a not for profit way. He wanted to advance people money for whatever they wanted. He wanted his label to give people advances without having to worry about record contracts. It was a very ‘60s dream. Frank just wanted to help. I found out later his business partner had other ideas. (The business partner in question was Herb Cohen, who had temporary ownership of the casts and threatened to sell knock-offs of them as “Cocksicles.” Cynthia won a court judgment against him in 1994. -MM)

Plaster Caster-The Movie

JB- Tell me about the documentary “Plaster Caster” that came out a few
years ago.

CPC- It’s got a commercial release now. It made the film festival circuit for about a year and now its’ commercial release is on DVD. It came about when Jessica Villines, whose the director, vaguely knew me from the rock scene of Chicago. She and her mother, who was the executive producer, out of nowhere let me know that they wanted to make a documentary about me and they were willing to pay me a huge advance. That’s what sold me. It took Jessica and the editor Brian Johnson and director of photography Jeff Economy about 2 to 2 ½ years to put it all together. It’s weird walking around with a mic attached my butt all the time, but I got used to it. In fact, I really found I like being interviewed. They couldn’t stop me from talking!

Cynthia P. Caster Foundation

Our main investor, ironically, his name is Jason Pickleman. He was trying to help me sell casts and said “What do think of selling these casts on a not for profit level?" We thought that the people would help would be struggling artists and musicians like myself. I never thought I would be able to make money on any level doing what I’m doing. I come from a relatively poor background and I just know so many struggling ,creative talented people never see the light of day because they have no money. That tends to be my favorite kind of art and music.

My First Concert: The Rolling Stones at the Chicago Stadium, 1975

This article was first published on Suite101.com on January 3, 2004.

In my middle class, Catholic neighborhood circa 1975 it was impossible to find another 15 year old that idolized weirdos like the Rolling Stones enough to go to one of their concerts. Seriously, all my classmates were into Barry Manilow and the Captain and Tenille. Maybe they'd see America at Ravinia if they were feeling frisky. I'm not joking. I ended up going to the show with the 25 year old schoolteacher sister of one of my brothers' friends. She, of course, could not believe that someone had a spare ticket to see the Stones. By the way, the ticket cost nine fifty. That's nine dollars and fifty cents, not 950 dollars, which is what it probably costs now for a main floor seat to see the Stones.


An interesting tidbit about this concert involved one of the stage props, a large penis shaped balloon that sprang up from under the stage during the naughty classic "Star, Star" (aka "Starfucker"). Mick then proceeded to ride said balloon during the song. . Being young and very into seeing the concert and pissed off that I was going to watch the show from the mezzanine and not the front row, I bought a pair of binoculars especially for the event. When you're 15, its very important that you see and analyze every movement a performer makes in detail with your girlfriends later and giggle over it. You must remember Mick still looked presentable at that time, as it was the tail end of his eyeliner and makeup era.


There were no high-class super venues in the '70s with skyboxes and designer pizza at the concession stand. You were lucky to buy a T-shirt from a grizzled old hippie at a table by the box office. In those days, it was more likely you'd be accosted by some greasy kid outside the stadium selling bootleg T shirts for $5 apiece. The licensing police were non-existent in those days, so the counterfeiters did a brisk business.


Anyhow, the concert itself was great. Some pics of the '75 tour (though not specifically this show) are here.

Just shows you that the Stones did look pretty good once. And see? I wasn't lying about the prop either. I remember there was a mini-controversy about the band using the balloon penis in the Chicago Stadium. The powers that be were aghast at such a pornographic prospect. I'm not sure about the validity of this rumor. Can you imagine the conversation between Mayor Daley Sr. and the police commissioner?



"Mr. Mayor, they are transporting a lewd balloon between state lines."

"Lou? Lou's balloon? Who's Lou?"

In a teen-age girl's view, hair and clothing are very important. How the guitars were tuned and vocal modulation didn't matter too much. My diary noted the costume changes and dance moves, sort of a first foray into music journalism minus the music. It was great fun, though more of a personal experience. It's weird. It's kind of hard to imagine the Stones as young, i.e. to young for the early bird special at Denny's!! In the souvenir program I bought at the '75 show, Mick stated 'I'd rather be dead than sing "Satisfaction" when I'm 45." Time and the promise of Baby Boomers raking over big bucks changes everything. But I suppose if you looked back on interviews with most young rock stars they'd assume they'd be dead or retired to the ranch by 40. Seeing a guy in his 30s strut around is more realistic and sexier than a 60-year-old pretending to be 30. The latter can still be entertaining, as the Stones have proven, but the edge is gone. It's only rock 'n' roll, but as long as it makes money and sends the crowds home happy, we'll like it.



Star***-LA, 1975

Danseparc-Martha and the Muffins CD Review

Danseparc 25th Anniversary Edition
Martha & The Muffins
Cherry Red UK



Danesparc by Martha & the Muffins—or M & M, as they preferred to be called now is one of those quietly heralded new wave albums that misses most top of the decade lists, but remains a favorite with diehard music buffs. Martha and the Muffins gained fame with their frothy dance hit “Echo Beach”, but M & M’s founders, Mark Gane and Martha Johnson, had much more to offer as evidenced by the rich tapestry of horns, sound effects, layered vocals and percussion on Danescparc.

First released on vinyl in 1983, Danesparc remained out of print for years, but is now available in a digitally remastered 25th anniversary CD edition on Cherry Red Records, complete with lyric booklet and bonus live tracks

Martha and the Muffins first album, Metro Music, spawned “Echo Beach” and a world tour for this Toronto based band. Shortly after that trek ended, keyboardist Martha Ladley, bassist Carl Finkle and drummer Tim Gane left the group. New drummer Nick Kent and bassist Jocelyne Lanois revamped the Muffins with a more cerebral, cutting-edge playing. Jocelyne suggested her brother Daniel produce their 1981 album This Is The Ice Age and the rest is history. Daniel went on to produce such artist as Bob Dylan and Eno, but cut his teeth, admirably, on several Martha and the Muffins projects.

While the songwriting team of Johnson and Gane had expanded their experimental sound on This Is the Ice Age, Danesparc was their biggest critical success. It proved that Johnson and Gane were Canada’s version of New York post-punk hipsters-- minus the pretentiousness. M &M are more listener-friendly than David Byrne and more intellectual than Human Leauge.. In “Obedience” they pick at the intricacies and foibles of everyday life. This is Johnson’s baby as she she uses her voice as an instrument, using the word “repeat as a mantra against escalating tribal drums. It’s small but specific touches like this that give Danseparc its flavor.


The cover of Danesparc is a photo of a miniature park setting, all tiny trees and grass. While it looks like an aerial photo of a real park at first glance, it is actually a photo of a miniature park model once owned by Gane and Johnson. owned by Gane and Johnson. The park as a social setting provides subject matter and imagery for much of Danesparc. “Boys in the Bushes” was inspired (not surprisingly) by a trip to San Francisco and the extracurricular activities of its gay male residents.The dizzying tone of “Several Styles of Blonde Girls Dancing” marks its territory with jaunty percussion and Gane’s deadpan vocals, which disintegrate into growls at certain points in the song. Here, the wordplay (and the park theme) continues with lyrics like “a verdant park of small proportions underneath the sky/ the turtles eggs/the dancing suns/the things I can’t explain.” Each song on Danesparc unravels like a stream of consciousness dialouge describing everyday emotions set to a background of horns, hand claps and/or percussion.


The bonus tracks include a live performance of “Sins of the Children” and the dark dance synth of “These Dangerous Machines”, an eerie bit of rock disco that is best played with the lights off. For those who like discovering (or rediscovering) brilliant but often under publicized recordings of ‘80s post-punk and “new wave”, the remastered edition of Danesparc is one of the “lost” gems of that era.