You Can't Get It on DVD - Light of Day

Light of Day combines the unlikely bedfellows of family drama and a struggling bar band with poignant but occasionally melodramatic results. Written and directed by Paul Schrader, this 1987 film starred Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett as siblings battling to keep their family - and their band - from falling apart.

Joe Rasnick (Michael J. Fox) and a few of his bandmates ( including Bu Montgomery, played by Michael McKean) work in a factory during the day  and play in local bars at night for the love of rock ‘n’ roll. Joe’s sister Patti sings and plays guitar by night, and is a single Mom raising her son Benji (Billy Sullivan) when she’s not playing music. Jeanette Rasnick (Gena Rowlands) , Patti and Joe’s mother, rules over the family in a passive-aggressive way, although she makes no secret of her disdain for Patti.

Films about rock bands usually mean drugs, sex, booze, fighting, general decadence and the resulting fallout, but the bar band portrayed in Light of Day has to deal with  less glamorous situations.  They travel in a van, stay in cheap motels and steal food to survive on the road.

The world Light of Day depicts is all too real, from the dives the Barbusters play to the small, ranch-style house that serves as the setting for all the family drama. Patti’s the family black sheep while Joe is the peacemaker. Joe is a loving uncle to Benji while Patti goes on tour with a metal band called the Hunzz. Patti’s impassioned speech to Joe about living for music, about the nitty-gritty of performing music for the love of it, exposes music as her motivation - and her escape from family turmoil.  The camaraderie between Fox and Jett is believable; yes you’d buy them as a brother and sister act.. This film was made in the midst of  the popularity of Family Ties and Back to the Future, and it was fashionable for  hipsters of the time to bash Michael J. Fox for trying serious roles, but he was quite good in this film, Bright Lights, Big City and Causalities of War.

Jeanette’s health deteriorates; she and Patti have their final meeting in a hospital room. Jett holds her own in an emotional performance playing off seasoned actress Rowlands. It makes you wonder how she would have fared in other demanding acting roles.

There’s a blink and you’ll miss it performance by Trent Reznor  as a member of a fictional local band. Trent was in a real Cleveland band called the Exotic Birds at the time. Jason Miller appears in a few scenes as Patti and Joe’s dad, Benjamin, a quiet man who has long acquiesced family reigns to his strong-willed wife.   

If you want gritty, depressing rock ‘n’ roll unreality, try Hardcore Logo. Light of Day is an authentic story of two mutually exclusive worlds – family and rock ‘n’ roll - that mix well in Schrader’s script and the performances of Rowlands and its two young stars.

Schrader didn’t seem to think Jett fit in with the rest of the cast..In a quote from the book Schrader on Schrader and Other Writings, the auteur notes that “although she gave a good performance, Jett’s casting …”did not work.” It’s interesting to note that Schrader is said to have renounced Blue Collar, another one of his directorial efforts that’s currently unavailable on DVD.




















  

Film Review - Jobriath A.D.

Jobriath album cover, Times Square billboard, 1973

 

Jobriath A.D.

Music Documentary

Written and Directed by Kieran Turner
Narrated by Henry Rollins

Screened at Cinefamily’s “Don’t Knock the Rock Festival”

L.A., August 9, 2012

Kieran Turner’s documentary Jobriath, A.D. gives us a long-overdue glimpse into the life of one of rock 'n' roll’s most enigmatic characters. Jobriath, aka Bruce Wayne Campbell  aka Cole Berlin, went from through  many chameleon-like career changes in his 36 years,. from musical theater star to glam rock also-ran to cabaret singer.  Like Klaus Nomi, Jobriath was gay in an era when mainstream culture only accepted gay rock stars who hid or downplayed their sexual orientation.  Unlike Nomi, who was a vocalist/performance artist, Jobriath was an accomplished musician and songwriter. He was an adolescent piano prodigy who dropped out of college, joined the military, went AWOL, joined the L.A. cast of Hair, performed with hippie-rock band Pidgeon, spent time in a mental institution –and then things really got interesting.

Regardless of your musical (or sexual) preference, Jobriath A.D. has elements that will capture the interest of most viewers. It’s a story of an artist way before his time, the victim of an over-the-top publicity campaign, an unsophisticated public and a fickle press. Even in photos from a recording session with some of his Hair cast members, Jobriath emitted a cool, charismatic androgyny, long before any of the glam rock trapping appeared. His talent was undeniable, as he churned out song after song. As writer and activist Jim Fouratt, one of the film’s interviewees, notes, “He was one of those people who had talent that transcended his sexual orientation..”  Jobriath kept an extremely low profile about his real-life sexuality, despite his pronouncements to the press about being a “true fairy.”

Campbell gave himself the name Jobriath, a contraction of Job and Goliath, shortly before playing Woof in the stage version of Hair. He soon attracted the attention of Jerry Brandt, a flashy (one associate described him as “reptilian”) but successful music impresario. Brandt and Jobriath had a symbiotic relationship; they both wanted fame and fortune, to be “like Colonel Parker and Elvis.” Interviews with Brandt form the core of the documentary. He comes across like a high-end version of the satin-jacketed rock manager Bill Murray portrayed on Saturday Night Live.  By the end of the film, though, it becomes clear that he wasn't Jobriath's manager just for the potential money and gold records. He obviously revered his client's talent. The seemingly bottomless promo budget for Jobriath’s first album fueled a 50-foor square billboard in Times Square, full-page ads in major magazines and ads on London’s bus fleet.

Brandt got Jobriath booked on the pop variety show The Midnight Special, where he performed on the same bill with Gladys Knight and Spooky Tooth. Jobriath’s performance confused most people who watched it that night. They simply ignored him and continued listening to the Doobie Brothers. Despite a few glowing reviews, the music press portrayed him in as a flash-in-the-pan imitation of Bowie, Bolan, et al.

Despite a mixed critical reaction to the album and near zero attention from record-buyers, Brandt and Jobriath forged ahead with new projects, which included  planning a performance at the Paris Opera House. The spectacle, which would put even Lady Gaga to shame, involved King Kong and a replica of the Empire State Building that turns into a large penis – and this was in 1974! The concert never materialized, but  animator Benjamin Nielsen envisions how the project may have turned out in one of  Jobriath A.D.'s cartoon sequences. By the time Jobriath’s second album, Creatures of the Street ,was released in 1974, the marketing campaign had run out of steam, and Jobriath retreated to pyramid apartment on top of the Chelsea Hotel. He reinvented himself as cabaret singer Cole Berlin, and gained a following at piano bars in Manhattan. Jobriath died of AIDs in 1983, one of the first rock musicians to succumb to the disease.

Turner includes interviews with people from the pre-glam part of Jobriath’s life, including his brother, Hair castmate Gloria Jones and the play’s producer, Michael Butler. Other interviewees run the gamut from Jayne County, another trailblazer for the LGBT music community, to Joe Elliot (Def Leppard did a version of Heartbeat on one of their covers albums), Ann Magnuson, Jake Shears of Scissors Sisters, Will Sheff of Okkervil River and Marc Almond. So that’s quite a range of performers who credit Jobriath as a musical influence.  

Director Kieran Turner’s fully-rounded effort doesn’t gloss over any facet of this story or take too long on any one part of this complicated saga; his timing with the material is spot-on.  Turner’s research for the film turned up several gems, including interview footage of Brandt and Jobriath from the Los Angeles. NBC affiliate.  This documentary connects all the obscure Jobriath info floating around the Internet  and elsewhere and fits the puzzle pieces together. Jobriath A.D.  pays homage to a man who broke ground for gay people in rock music, the man some music scribes refer to as “America’s Bowie” 

Jobriath A.D. Official Site

From the Archives: Inland Invasion/25 Years Of Punk: Devore CA 9/14/02 : Sex Pistols, X, Buzzcocks, Bad Religion, etc.

 This article originally appeared on Suite101.com in 2002. Since Suite101 has purged most of its older articles, I'm posting it here for hysterical, I mean, historical (??) purposes. It was one of the first articles I wrote after rediscovering punk rock after years as a metalhead.



Inland Invasion/25 Years Of Punk
Devore CA 9/14/02
Sex Pistols, X, Buzzcocks, Bad Religion, etc.
Review first published September 16, 2002.



On September 14th, the much-ballyhooed 25th anniversary of punk concert took place in Devore, CA. The show was not an all-inclusive representation, as it boasted no San Francisco or New York bands. .Most of the featured bands were from SoCal. and a few British innovators, including the best punk rock band ever, the antithesis of humankind … the Sex Pistols.

 My boyfriend and I spent a few hours waiting by will call to get our passes. Plenty of time to at least hear the bands on the second stage and see outlines of dust being  funneled around. I found out later that a few people had been stabbed by the second stage - at least that was the rumor going around. Well, with bands like the Circle Jerks, TSOL, the Adolescents and the Distillers playing, you ain’t gonna get roses thrown at ya. With the exception of Birmingham, England based GBH, all the second stage bands hailed from Southern California.

The parade of  T-shirts on incoming fans was mind-boggling! Everything from all the bands who were playing  to the Ramones, X - Ray Spex, the Minutemen, et al. It was a veritable history of punk via outerwear and of course, they were the requisite Sid Vicious lookalikes to boot. (No Nancy lookalikes, though, thank God.)

 By the time we got to the lawn, we heard Captain Sensible say something  about wanting to shag some Britney clones with free tics. I’m sure, I could almost hear them retort. X played a short, ragged set that wasn’t up to their usual high standards.  The fact that they were playing so early in the day was confusing enough, and the generic sound system didn’t help.

 The Buzzcocks played next – I had forgotten how good their songs were. Their sound is unmistakably a precursor to what we name-tag “pop-punk” today. But their music is intelligent and stylized, unlike many of the younger bands trading in the genre. New Found Glory and Blink 182 were two bands that definitely did not belong on the bill with real punk bands. Their music is neither pop nor punk, it’s just sing-songy froth that a Britney Spears/N’Sync fan would find cutting edge or risque. Blink especially got it bad, as they played after Pennywise practically incited the crowd to riot. And who was stationed outside the lawn mosh pit during this time -- yours truly, always one to seek out adventure. A nice moment occurred when the Pennywise, (hardcore hell-raisers from Hermosa Beach) played snippets of Ramones songs and dedicated it to Deedee and Johnny. The free booklet given out to concert-goers was dedicated to the spirit of  Joey and DeeDee Ramone.

 By the time the sun set  it was time for serious action. Bad Religion and Social Distortion railed against the man, government hypocrisy, and such. Of all the new bands, Offspring fared the best - at least they rocked. As I had suspected, many of the younger fans left after their set. Comments on the packed-like-sardines consumerist midway between shows consisted of variations on “Why the hell did I come here? This is the worst day of my life.” 105 degree temperatures, extreme security measures (no safety pins were allowed. At a punk concert? Gosh, I wonder if they busted the girl who heeded John Lydon's  request for a safety pin during the show.) and heinously overpriced food and souvenirs contributed to these sentiments.

 It took about half an hour for the Pistols to come on. It was nerve wracking. but worth it. The moment that little redhead -well, now a platinum haired freak- hit the stage,it was all worth it.  The first song, Bodies, was enough to wake up a crowd wilting from heat exhaustion and 8.00 beers. It was followed in short order by I Wanna Be Me, New York, Pretty Vacant, and the seldom heard Belsen Was A Gas (with the chorus Oy vey!)

 They played everything from Bollocks except Submission. Steve's guitar playing was excellent - some of the best I've ever heard from him - but I  swear he didn't even acknowledge the audience once. Gone are the spandex stretch pants and blow job requests of the ‘96 reunion tour. We stayed at  the side of the stage for the first song.  It was great to glance out and see a crowd of 50,000  plus cheering for the Pistols. They deserve it

 John wore some kinda silky pajama type outfit and had a few multicolored streaks in his platinum hair. First thing he does is bash the concert sponsors - Levis and radio station KROQ.  Some long-haired dude had one of those dry erase boards with rude comments about the band. I didn't see what he held up during the show, but he was walking around backstage writing dumb shit down on it. Well, John sees it, goes ballistic. “You’re in the wrong decade.” (Can't you just hear that sarcastic English accent of his? It was classic!) Then he added, “Funny, me telling you that.” Later, he was adjusting his pants and said something like "No rapper's got a package like that." Hmm, is that why Nora's so ecstatically happy all the time? During "Stepping Stone" he unbuttoned his shirt, and revealed a flat chest & tummy just like he had in '78.


 For most of the Pistols set my boyfriend and I walked back and forth behind the loge. Security wouldn't let us stay backstage after the first song. We had bought lawn tickets as insurance, but kids were packed in like passengers on a Tokyo subway train. No dif. Not to mention over a dozen bonfires were in full force. Needless to say, we couldn't make it back to the lawn. John also made some comment about "I don't live here (Ca.) for no good reason." I must say that at night with the backdrop of the mountains, the Blockbuster Pavilion venue is utterly gorgeous. But security and prices were prohibitive.($5 for a small soda.) Some guy threw a beer on him and it splattered all over his shirt. John lambasted the hapless fan.. “There's some dopey A***hole whose got more money than sense, if you're gonna buy beers f****ing drink 'em, you wuss.”


 The band ended its set with the one-two punch of God Save The Queen and Anarchy In The UK.A lot of kids were leaving and John goes, “I like this, now all the wankers are going home and we're coming on strong.The teeny boppers have left the building” The lone encore was a cover of Silver Machine, a song by Lemmy’s old band, Hawkwind.. John ended by saying "Thanks to the other bands for letting us play, cheers, and don't let the bastards grind you down." The band was amazingly tight and professional. You have to appreciate Glen’s bass playing.  I must say he is like the punk Paul McCartney - still quite handsome at 45. Cookie was pounding on the drums with his customary energy. Is another tour in the works? I hope so.

Life's A Bitch - Betsy Bitch Still Dominating Female Metal

Speaking of S&M, the bookstore isn't the only place you can find whips and chains in pop culture. Let us return to the days of black leather, Aquanet and the Sunset Strip for awhile to  reminisce about Betsy Bitch, one of the few female vocalists on the Southern California metal scene in the 1980s. Along with her band, Bitch, she provided a small but loyal contingent of L.A. thrill-seekers a dose of crunching metal guitars accompanied by sometimes naughty, sometime laughable S & M theatrics. Such a stage show was  de rigueur for L.A. bands in the hedonistic '80s (WASP, Motley Crue, the Mentors, etc.)

After signing with Metal Blade in the early 1980s, Bitch released an EP, Damnation Alley and a full-length album Be My Slave. The band also made a few videos featuring highlights (or lowlights, depending on your point of view) from their stage show. Needless to say, these videos never made it into heavy rotation on MTV. They were fun to watch on local L.A. music video shows, way after hours, though.

After an unsuccessful attempt to cash in on the pop-metal bandwagon, with 1987’s The Bitch is Back and 1988’s  Betsy, the band went back to their hard-edged roots with subsequent releases. Bitch toured Europe with the band Anger as Art last year.

You can find out more about Betsy at Betsybitch.com (an unofficial fan site)  and her official blog Bitchmetal.com.

Music Review : The Cult: Choice of Weapon

With their ninth album, Choice of Weapon, The Cult are back with a vengeance. After the lackluster reception to 2007’s Born Into This. With the aid of co-producers Chris Goss and Bob Rock, the band returns to their urgent, fiery best. After all, Rock did produce Sonic Temple. 1994’s The Cult and the criminally under rated Beyond Good and Evil.

Singer Ian Astbury is back at his shamanistic best.  His vocals, now deeper and more controlled, have urgency to them. His lyrics, derived from Native American mythology, Buddhist teachings and plain old life experience have taken on a maturity that alternately soothes and provokes. Billy Duffy’s rousing guitar work is at its blistering, seductive best on tracks like Lucifer and The Wolf.

The adrenaline-pumping rhythm of “Honey from a Knife” starts off the album, abetted by James Edwards’ chugging piano and the background vocal chant “We got the drugs”. Ian channels Jim Morrison in Pale Horse (which reminds me a bit of “King Contrary Man from Electric), and the hopeful poetry of “Elemental Light.” For the Animals, the first single, barrels through your speakers (or iPod) like a force of nature. The driving immediacy of “Amnesia” recalls the Stooges’ Raw Power.

The hallmark of the band has always been the unique chemistry between vocalist Astbury and guitarist Billy Duffy. Duffy’s earthy riffs meet Astbury’s pontificating shaman head-on, and the combination has produced some iconic sounds since 1983. And this is one band that’s never fit into a neat little genre. They wore make-up and  sported poufy hair during the Love-era and before, but they were new wave? Nope, not with that guitar sound.  With the Rick Rubin-produced Electric, they were heavy, but not heavy metal –the lyrics were too hippie-ish. Even Sonic Temple, released during the waning days of the hair band era, was too smart to be lumped in with other hard rock albums touted by MTV circa 1990. Fans who’ve stuck with the band for better or worse will find Choice of Weapon as aggressive as Electric and as lyrically thought-provoking as The Cult.

Even younger metal (and punk) fans will appreciate Choice of Weapon’s take-no-prisoners approach.  Against Me and Icarus Line are opening their L.A. show, and the snarling, passionate riffs of Choice of Weapon are just as aggressive as those younger fans are used to. This album has a ramped-up, renovated sound. It’s not hard rock nostalgia for fans who prefer their music in an unaltered state, regardless of the year.

The Cult’s line-up has remained steady since 2007, with John Tempesta on drums, Chris Wyse on bass and touring rhythm guitarist Mike Dimkich. The band’s U.S. tour runs now through June 23^rd, with the final “Hometown” show at the Hollywood Palladium. A European tour follows in July and August.

http://thecult.us/main/

Film Review - God Bless America

A biographer once commented, “We idolize people who we want to imitate,” If that’s the case, mainstream America is worse off than one could ever imagine. Judging by the still-skyrocketing ratings for the Kardashians (they got renewed again) and other trashy reality shows, America is so dumbed down there’s nowhere left to go but down “the road” described in Cormac McCathy’s bleak novel.

Such scenarios have attracted the ire of director Bobcat  Goldthwait, former screechy-voiced standup comedian and director of the cult favorite Shakes the Clown.  With the satire God Bless America, Goldthwait has created another quirky underground film. This one, however, deals with subject matter more serious than inebriated clowns.

Disenfranchised loner Frank (Joel Murray) is divorced from his wife, estranged from his daughter, and has just lost his job at an insurance company   After being diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor, Frank sets out to off himself in front of the TV. He sees a My Super Sweet 16 type show  as spoiled brat Chloe bitches at he parents for not buying her an Escalade for her birthday. Frank, disgusted by this arrogant display, and all the oafish behavior he has encountered, snaps, like the blue-collar version of William Holden in Network.  He’s got a reason to live now, and he sets out to rid the world of awful brat Chloe and other boorish types. While offing Chloe, he encounters her droll classmate Roxy (Tara Lynne Barr) , and the two set forth on a cross country mission to eradicate a slew of rude and crude poseurs.

Frank and Roxy’s relationship is completely platonic, with Frank even expressing disdain for Nabokov and America’s fascination with slutty teen girls. God Bless America is half thinking man’s film, half bloody black comedy. Under  Goldthwait’s direction, it achieves its objective (despite some uneven pacing) - to make people think. As in his previous directorial efforts, Goldthwait has the nerve to commit certain on-camera atrocities other directors would never consider. Frank confronts his tacky neighbors in a way that will leave you going “Umm, I didn’t just see that, did I?”

God Bless America pursues the same territory as Mike Judge’s Idiocracy, albeit in a real-time setting. The harmless nimrods of Idiocracy have been replaced by an American landscape inhabited by plenty of crass morons, mostly unseen. Frank and Roxy’s conversations are as much a part of the film as the gunplay. Frank attempts to explain the base nature of the American Superstarz show to a brain-dead fellow employee near the film’s beginning. His diatribe goes on too long, but it’s cathartic to hear a film character express the disgust many of us have felt since reality and (no) talent TV shows took over the airwaves.

Frank and Roxy track down another member of their hit list, a conservative radio talk show host,.“Why do you have to be so rude to people?”  Roxy says. The specter of self-absorption and rudeness is the enemy here.  God Bless America isn’t a politically-driven revenge fantasy. Even though a few of Frank and Roxy’s targets are conservative, it’s more about the lack of civility used in expressing the beliefs than the beliefs themselves. Other targets include people who talk on their cell phones in movie theaters, rude drivers, and the Westboro Baptist Church. The body count isn’t as large as you might expect from the ominous pic of the gun-toting duo on the movie's poster.  Frank and Roxy are the smart person’s Bonnie and Clyde. The violence is ultimately balanced by the articulate self-awareness of the lead characters. A slap-happy bloodfest this is not. Isn’t that the behavior the film is protesting? The movie is not without its twists and turns, but I won’t reveal any spoilers here.

After taking umbrage at the way a William Hung type character is being treated on the American Superstarz show, Frank and Roxy head to Hollywood to exact revenge.  This sets up the film’s climax in the belly of the beast where they come face-to face with the faux American Idol’s washed-up judges and hypocritical audience.

God Bless America’s theatrical release is  playing in a handful of art house theaters across the country. It’s playing at the Downtown Independent in Los Angeles til May 17th.  God Bless America is a not so gentle reminder that we are in a pop culture Dark Ages. It’s about time more people stand up and actively create a Renaissance - just not with firearms.

Music Review: Sci-Fi Romance: The Ghost of John Henry

The Ghost of John Henry, the second album by L.A. indie-folk band Sci-Fi Romance, is a different listening experience, one that puts your mind, as well your ears, to work.. Singer/songwriter Vance Kotrla has crafted a concept album based on the folk legend of John Henry. The story of the steel-drivin' railroad worker who emerged victorious against a steam hammer, only to die for his efforts, has been recounted by many artists, from Big Bill Broonzy to Johnny Cash, but this is the first steam-folk treatment.

 The ten songs on John Henry combine bare-bones acoustic music and stark imagery to bring the folk tale to life, transforming the legend into a human being on a complex emotional journey. The battle pitting man versus machine is an ongoing one. John Henry’s courageous race against the steam hammer isn’t really that different than modern man’s love/hate relationship with technology.

Sci-Fi Romance's ambitious project colors in the legend with a musical storyline that’s simultaneously humane and ominous. Kotrla’s evocative baritone expresses this torment without becoming overblown. Kurt Bloom’s drumming and Jody Stark’s plaintive cello strike just the right balance with the somber guitar and Johnnie Kotrla's bass.  The rigorous production by Jaron Luksa, engineer for the Dresden Dolls and Amanda Palmer, ties it all together.

This bittersweet concept album may sound monotonous to people weaned only on the jumpy melodies of pop-rock. John Henry is an acquired taste for such folks, but well worth the effort. While the album seems to have been written and recorded to flow as a unified whole, a few of the songs do shine as solo pieces. “We Used to Sing”, the most commercial-sounding of all the tracks, has a lively pace. It's a bit like a Steve Goodman composition, though not quite as spry. In the first “Broken World”, Kotrla sings, "It’s a broken world/But in the cracks, there’s beauty,”  This could serve as the album’s mantra. 

The Ghost of John Henry carries Sci-Fi Romance into new territory.  Kotrla has made it a point to explore challenging subject matter and John Henry is no exception. It will be interesting to see where Sci-Fi Romance goes next.

Listen to the MP3 for Steam Drill Blues here.
Band Website: Sci-Fi Romance
My review of ..and surrender my body to the flames, the first album by Sci-Fi Romance

More Sad Songs : 1970s Tearjerkers about Dearly-Departed Pets

If you lived through the mixed-bag that comprised AM radio in the 1970s, you probably remember the following odes to deceased pets. Whether you dismissed ‘em as sappy drek or cried til the grooves wore out on the 45, they will stir up lotsa “Me Decade” memories.

Shannon-Henry Gross

Henry Gross, one of the founding members of Sha-Na-Na, is best known for this 1976 tearjerker. Written about the death of Beach Boy Carl Wilson’s Irish Setter, the song made it to number 6 on the Billboard charts in 1976 and was ubiquitous on AM radio. The song is the catalyst for an infamous outtake from Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 radio show. Kasem’s  rant about a “Long Distance Dedication” to a dead dog placed after an up-tempo song has been a viral favorite for years. Click Here to Listen

Wildfire - Michael Martin Murphey

I always loved the piano intro to this 1975 hit song. Even if the lyrics about a doomed, mystical horse are too sappy for you, the haunting music will get to you. Songwriter Michael Martin Murphey  has enjoyed  a long and notable career, recording songs in several musical genres, including country/western, pop, cowboy and folk. His hit songs include  “Still Taking Chances”, “Carolina in the Pines” and “A Long Line of Love.” Murphey also wrote the song, What Am I Doing Hangin' Round for the Monkees.

 

Queen of the Roller Games - Raquel Welch in "Kansas City Bomber"

Drew Barrymore’s 2009 film Whip It chronicled the tattooed glamor girls of modern roller derby. The real-life counterparts that spawned this movie really skate, block and brawl, but many of them look like retro pinups while doing it. That’s quite different than the infamous stars of the Roller Game of the Week , a syndicated TV show from the late 1960s and early 1970s that featured the Los Angeles Thunderbirds versus an array of unsavory opponents, like the Texas Outlaws and the New York Bombers. A pseudo-sport that combined banked track skating, staged fights and colorful characters ala professional wrestling, roller games blared from many a TV set every weekend. The Los Angeles Thunderbirds were the cornerstone of the league.

The co-ed  T-Birds battled their rivals at the Olympic Auditorium in downtown L.A. This venue is pretty grimey now: I imagine it was even scarier when the T-Birds plied their trade.  Roller Games’ stars included the T-Birds Shirley Hardman, a burly woman with a blonde pony tail who often chased opponents around the rink with a baseball bat; and “Psycho” Ronnie Rains, who was known to wear a  WW II German Kaiser helmet while skating from time to time. It was all part of the shtick, of course and the fans loved it. Play-by play announcer Dick Lane ( the first sports announcer to use the phrase “Whoa, Nelly!!) and Bill "Hoppy" Haupt described the action.  Every Sunday night, my brothers and I gathered around the TV set and rooted for the T-Birds to squash the opposing team. The skaters’ antics got us so riled up we would often throw chairs around the basement in a hyperactive frenzy. Luckily, no one was hurt during the viewing of the program.


Eventually, the Roller Games caught Hollywood’s attention. Raquel Welch starred as the Kansas City Bomber in MGM’s 1972 skating drama. Lacking the poignancy of the The Wrestler, another film about a “staged” sport, or the good-natured girl power of Whip It, 1972’s Kansas City Bomber starred Welch as roller derby skater K.C. Carr, who is booted from  the Kansas City Ramblers after losing a match race with another skater. She is traded to Portland, where the team’s lecherous owner ( Kevin McCarthy) takes a fancy to her. The single Mom of two becomes the team’s reigning diva and a fan favorite. The other female skaters don’t take kindly to this, particularly the eternally soused Jackie Burdette, played by Helena Kallianiotes. Burdette is K.C’s mortal enemy and opponent in the pivotal match race at the end of the film. Kallianiotes earned a Golden Globe nomination for her portrayal of the troubled, has-been skater. K.C. befriends a country bumpkin male skater, played by Norman Alden, whose attempts to impress K.C. (and become a more “colorful” skater) end with a violent, on-track meltdown.

The final version of Kansas City Bomber was derived from an original script by UCLA film student Barry Sandler. He wrote the script after watching a T-Birds match at the seedy Olympic Auditorium. His original concept was more complicated than what finally made it to the screen, as he explains in the above-posted YouTube video. The final script, less daunting and adapted for mainstream audiences, debuted in theaters in August 1972.


K.C.’s Mom watches her kids while she travels around the country, skating and brawling with the Roller Games. There’s only one short scene of K.C. with her children (her daughter is played by a young Jodie Foster), which ends with her son  running away from her and her mother berating her lifestyle. The reason for K.C.’s marital status is never fully explained, so we know very little about what brought Welch’s character to this point in her life. Still, Welch plays K.C. with a mixture of independence and vulnerability that  might surprise some viewers who expected  her emoting skills to begin and end with “sex symbol.”

Many  professional Roller Games skaters appeared in the film, including Patti “Moo-Moo” Calvin, John Hall and Judy Arnold, lending it an aura of authenticity. Welch  held her own against the skating pros, even doing some of her own stunts. She suffered a broken wrist after one stunt, which delayed filming for several weeks.

Given the nature of roller games in the 1970s, it’s surprising that there weren’t more movies about it. The subject seemed ripe for the low-budget exploitation craze of the time. Later that year, the American International comedy Unholy Roller was released - aside from that, the roller derby didn't make a big impression on filmmakers at that time.  I’m surprised there wasn’t an ABC Movie of the Week based on Jim Croce’s  song Roller Derby Queen.


Kansas City Bomber is a engaging movie about a faux sport we’ll never see quite the same way again. It stays true to roller games in all their grungy, bargain basement glory. The everything but the kitchen sink plot takes up time that could have been better spent on more banked track action, but it’s just as entertaining as any other 1970s B movie. But be forewarned, guys, its not as sleazy as you might expect. The DVD release is rated  PG,  as there was only one, non-explicit shower scene and some swearing.

R.I.P. Davy Jones : Memories from a Groovy 1960s Childhood

When Davy Jones of the Monkees died on February 29^th, all types of people, regardless of age, background or musical preference, posted loving childhood memories, historical appreciations or Monkees videos on their social media pages or blogs.

But here it is a week later and there are fresh postings underneath many Monkees Youtube videos and under news stories about Davy’s passing. Every time a celebrity dies, there’s a flurry of activity on Facebook,  a combination of heartfelt remembrances, simple R.I.P. postings and the occasional troll insults,  i.e. “crack is whack” referring to Whitney Houston. Usually, the virtual grieving lasts a day or two and then it’s business as usual. But Davy’s death has touched a lot of people across several generations beyond that usual first twinge of shock. There was a joy and sense of fun to the Monkees music and TV show that appealed to kids who discovered them through MTV in the 1980s and syndicated reruns as well as original viewers.

 Maybe that’s why a week later, people are still posting memories and condolences about Davy while the media has long since moved on to its bread and butter - mindless Kardashian news and political bickering. Outside of entertainment, Whitney Houston was known mainly for her drug scandals and bad behavior. That's one of the reasons her death and its aftermath are still in the news weeks later.The mainstream media pays more attention to Whitney because she was younger and more familiar to a generation weaned on MTV. Most members of today’s news organizations came of age when she was popular – Davy Jones was just some guy on an old TV show to them. Plus, her lifestyle made for better copy. You can get a lot of press mileage out of a drug addict; a nice guy, not so much.

 I was in kindergarten when the Monkees premiered. The Monkees - Davy, Micky, Mike and Peter - were the perfect “starter” rock group for a generation too young to appreciate Sergeant Pepper - era Beatles or the raunchy Rolling Stones. Davy was just clean-cut and cuddly enough that Mom could like him, too.  Every Monday night, we waited for the new episode, which always ended too soon. Most of the first album purchases for kids in the neighborhood were Monkees albums. We were very dedicated to the boys, and made a point to be home on Monday nights. God forbid, there was a delay in getting home before the show.  Once we were a few blocks from home after eating dinner at Bonanza Family Steakhouse. The car brushed an 18-wheeler (no one was hurt) and one of the truck’s wheels flew off. Luckily, all matters were resolved and we got home in time to see the show. This was later referred to as the “I don’t care if we hit a train, I wanna see the Monkees” incident.

Davy was the Monkees’ heartthrob, but he was more than just cute. He was a great dancer. My friends and I tried unsuccessfully to imitate his famous sashay dance. (Axl Rose misappropriated this move years later.) And he was as funny as he was cute. There was no such thing as the “funny” Monkee – they were all hilarious in their own way. Davy had funny catchphrases, mannerisms and memorable lines.  “You must be joking.” “It’s cuz I’m short, I know.” were two of the most popular. And who could forget that cute little hiccup sound he made when the boys were in a scary situation, right before they escaped some harebrained villain. To this day, I repeat Monkees dialogue as part of my daily routine. Naturally, 99.9 per cent of the people around me have no idea of their origin. (“What a great-looking cardboard box!” Quick! What episode is that from ?)

When people ask me how I developed my non-sequitur, smartass sense of humor,  I say “The Monkees.”  I don’t remember much about the first season. As the music became more varied -and the humor turned weirder and more random during the second season, my interest grew. I loved the way the guys would break the fourth wall and speak directly to the audience. So cute. I didn’t know, of course, that pot-smoking and whatnot fueled much of it.

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia…

When we were in high school, my friend Mary Beth occasionally brought out her Monkees albums and we’d dance around her bedroom and reminisce, singing along with lesser-known songs like Cuddly Toy (written by Harry Nilsson) and Star Collector (Goffin-King).

“Wait a second!,” Mary Beth exclaimed. These songs are about WHOOREEES! We were listening to dirty songs as kids and didn’t even know it! “Of course, she was exaggerating. The songs were more about flirtatious types than sluts, but then again, mainstream songwriters had to be very subtle  back then, lest the censors confront them with a long list of changes. In the mid-1970s, Davy toured with Micky and songwriters Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart as Dolenz, Jones,Boyce and Hart. .It was fun to see Davy grown-up but cute as ever and Micky, grown-up and manic as ever, on the Mike Douglas Show and ironically, former Monkees Svengali Don Kirschner’s Rock Concert.

 

Davy’s passing is more than saying good-bye to a beloved entertainer. It leads to other memories of a 1960s ( or ‘70s or ‘80s) childhood that are long gone. It’s ironic that Pleasant Valley Sunday was originally written as a swipe at suburbia. Now that song brings back wonderful memories of lazy summer nights catching fireflies in bottles or swimming in our above-ground pools while music blared from our transistor radios.    “Rows of houses that are all the same and no one seems to care”. Those  brick homes and their neatly-manicured lawns are now replaced by boarded up buildings defaced by graffiti, at least in my old neighborhood. The comfy JC Penny and Sears Roebuck-equipped house of my youth now resembles a graffiti-laden respite for gang members.

Davy's vocals rarely faltered.  His pitch was always spot on. Even in later years he always hit the notes in concert. He had a good rapport with his fans, he never seemed to have a bad day or a complaint from his admirers. How rare is that in the celebrity world? As Micky said in a Associated Press interview last week “What you saw is what you got. He was very much a song-and-dance man, life of the party, always telling jokes, always on, an entertainer and just a great guy to be around.”

Some Davy trivia - He originally trained to be a jockey before moving to America to perform in Oliver on Broadway  Davy and other actors from Oliver performed on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, the same day as the Beatles’ first appearance. Who could have guessed that cute little kid would be the lead singer of a band that would outsell the Beatles and the Stones a few years later?

Davy was adorable til the end. Sure, he gained some weight and often sported the standard uniform of aging Baby Boomer guys – shorts and Hawaiian shirts, but his indefatigable spirit always shone through. He last performed in mid-February in Oklahoma and seemed fine, his normal perky self.  

He was married three times, most recently to Jessica Pacheco - Jones, a Telemundo presenter 30 years his junior. She performed as a dancer on the Monkees last reunion tour in 2011.  He had four adult daughters from his first two marriages. One of them, Annabel, is a recording artist in her own right with the band Lady and the Lost Boys. Public memorials are planned in New York and Davy's hometown of Manchester, England.

Rest in peace, Manchester Cowboy. We will miss you.

"Listen to the band!
Now weren't they good, they made me happy.
I think I can make it alone."

From the Archives: Interview with Tina Root & Susan Wallace of Switchblade Symphony, 1999

This is an interview I did with Tina Root and Susan Wallace of now-defunct Goth/darkwave band Switchblade Symphony. The band released four albums for Cleopatra Records before breaking up in late 1999. Tina and guitarist George Earth now perform in the band Small Halo.  This interview first appeared on Suite 101.com's Rock Music site.

Manhattan, September 1999

 
It's been a long and fruitful road for Susan Wallace and Tina Root, collectively known as Switchblade Symphony. In nearly ten years together, they have paved the way for female industrial artists, and toured with big-name acts such as Sisters of Mercy, Type O Negative, Gary Numan and Front Line Assembly. They take the combination of cartoon innocence and somber imagery to a more refined level, than, say the over the top renegade wilderness of Marilyn Manson. Experimentation with trip-hop on "Bread and Jam for Francis" gave way to the slick, landscape of their newest CD "The Three Calamities". Taking their formal musical training, love of bands like Nina Hagen, Skinny Puppy and Tom Waits, and love of Gothic imagery, Tina and Susan have created a CD that should propel them on their way to a larger and more eclectic audience.


Like the wide-eyed subjects of a Keane painting dressed in blue PVC leather, Tina Root and Susan Wallace, the vocalist and keyboard player, respectively, of Switchblade Symphony create music that is a study in contrast, a combination of disparate elements that work so well together, the effect is totally natural.

The San Francisco based band recently released their third full length CD "Three Calamities" (Cleopatra Records) and just completed a club tour of the U.S. and Canada. I spoke with Tina & Susan before their show at Downtime in Manhattan this summer. Tina Root, the bubbly vocalist, performed in school and got her first taste of rock 'n roll playing bass in a boyfriend's band. Eventually, she gave up the bass and became the group's singer. Susan began her performing career in plays, did some modeling, and turned to music by singing in the school choir in junior high. Her first band experience was less than amiable, as the members of the electronic-dance group she joined told her that she'd never get anywhere. And where are these blundering psychics now? "I'm sure they're very happy working at Tower," Tina interjects. The first well-known female fronted band in the industrial realm, Tina and Susan met in 1989 when a mutual friend introduced them. "I was looking for a band, and she had just left a band," says Tina, "They knew us, and were like, "You guys really need to get together, you really need to talk on the phone!", so our first initial meeting was on the phone and we spoke to each other for eight hours straight."

Soon the burgeoning friendship turned into a musical partnership as well, and Tina and Susan began writing songs and producing homemade tapes. They were a fixture on the San Francisco club scene, hanging out and playing their tapes for anyone who would listen. "We'd be like "Come into the parking lot and listen to our demo tape," and they'd be like "Oh, my God, you guys are psycho," Tina recalls, "Back then the tapes were really bad quality, and it was kind of humorous. We did it to everybody."

Their persistence paid off, and soon Switchblade Symphony were a mainstay on the San Francisco industrial scene. Industrial music, macho as heavy metal in the early part of its reign, welcomed Tina and Susan enthusiastically. "We always played with the boy industrial bands- it seems to have gotten bigger. There are more women around." Switchblade's first gigs were at an Italian restaurant. and ardent word of mouth ensued, followed by a compilation appearance (the song Mine Eyes) and the re-release of their first single "Mine Eyes".
Songs from Switchblade Symphony's incubation stage were featured on a special fan club only CD called "Scrapbook" (only 2,000 were initially pressed) , but we've been getting a lot of response from people wanting it, and including the song after which the band is named, just for the nostalgia of it since its the first thing we created."
Signing with industrial stalwart Cleopatra in 1995, Tina and Susan solidified their line-up with guitarist George Earth and drummer Eric Gerbow and their first CD, Serpentine Gallery was released, consisting mostly of older material. The second CD, 1997's "Bread and Jam for Francis" (named after the children's book) expounded on playfully Gothic imagery and melodies, exploring a feminine terrain with a sense of humor that is rarely examined in any electronic based music. The studio experience of making that CD was a bit more structured and "hands-on". "It seemed a little rushed to us," says Susan, "We had recently gotten new equipment and were learning things and I started to tackle the technical side and when you first start its very mathematical and robs the live acoustic feel from it. It’s kind of hard to mesh the two together and that coupled with the short amount of time we had (in the studio) where we didn't get to flower the songs with the pretty little things to season it with - with the newer ones (the songs on "Three Calamities") we're trying to put both of those together. For mixing down, we like to use old vintage analog which really manipulates and changes the sound and gives it a warmer feel - we put live drums over the drums to give (it) a more three dimensional feel, " notes Susan. Three Calamities was recorded in Daniel Lanois' El Teatro Studios and mixed by Grammy award winning producer Mark Howard.

Switchblade Symphony have toured with acts as diverse as 80s' techno pioneer Gary Numan (who specifically asked that they open for him) as well as dark-hued Brooklyn based rockers Type O Negative. Opening the West Coast leg of Type O's 1997 tour, the band was well-received by the hard-core crowd, whose glittery stage set up and bubble machine provided a marked contrast to their tourmates' stark image. Late Type O singer Peter Steele was a big Switchblade Symphony fan, and the admiration was mutual. "He has such a beautiful, melodic voice," says Susan.


Although the band is embraced by the "Goth" community, they eschew labels. "We're just weird," comments Susan. "We are dark and moody, and like to wear black sometimes. The music is dark and melodic, so I think that the Gothic scene embraced us and opened their arms to us, and that's where our core following is - and we're delighted that they like us. But we're more like nursery rhymes, Witches (from "Bread and Jam for Francis") is like a humorous song, with no underlying dark magic or anything."

Tina and Susan make most of their costumes, and Tina fashioned glitter-encrusted kitties that are a mainstay of their stage show. The atmosphere of each show varies, with forest, underwater and snow themes featured. The band has even expanded its' merchandising, with Switchblade Symphony tank tops, panties and other merch for sale at their shows - and selling briskly. Touring two to three times a year for the past few years, they've graduated from traveling in vans to a fully-equipped tour bus, enjoying the fruits of their labor. "We've been getting along so much better," says Susan, "We're eating better, sleeping better."


With "Three Calamities", Switchblade continues their evolution from underground industrial phenomenon to a smart, sharp-tongued but radio friendly band with songs such as "Invisible" and "Wicked." Tina puts her operatic training to good use, her voice trilling like a lush instrument, adding untold nuances to her terse but haunting lyrics. Susan's keyboard melodies are lean and ethereal, lending a quality that is more dream-like and contemplative than the relentless droning of many other industrial bands. "Therapy" verges on industrial/funk with an infectious, perfect for the dance floor beat. Switchblade Symphony echoes Siouxsie with a cleaner, more sophisticated edge. Tina and Susan ,along with drummer Eric Gerbow and guitarist George Earth, are gifted musicians, pushing American electronica to newer, classier limits. 

Wesley Willis and His Rock Music Joyride

"Rock music pays off. Rock music takes me on a joyride. Rock music keeps me off the hell city bus. Rock music will always look out for me. But I will not let my torture profanity demon shoot it down." - Wesley Willis

What is it about Chicago and outsider music?  Is it the cold weather, the highly segregated neighborhoods and the corrupt politicians that make it ripe for such off-the wall creativity?  Regardless of the reason, it’s interesting to note that two of the most-mentioned outsider musicians  are from the Windy City

The late Wesley Willis, a diagnosed schizophrenic, recorded a plethora of CDs. Despite,or perhaps because of, his condition, he was wildly prolific.  Willis recorded hundreds of songs, both solo and with his band, the Wesley Willis Fiasco. With a blend of humor, obscenity and surreal scenarios, reciting the song titles alone can provide a nighttime of entertainment. (Mustard Plug, Mr. Magoo Goes to Jail) Now, the uninitiated  first comment on Willis' music might be "So, it's  a crazy guy's rantings set to music?” Well, Willis songs might be just as bizarre, but they’re hilarious and have a honesty that charms as often as it shocks. Willis played all his solo songs on a Technics keyboard, reciting odes to movie stars, friends, rock bands, airlines, and  animal’s sexual organs.

His songs were in part, a way to exorcise the demons of his mental illness. Born to a drug addict mother on Chicago’s South Side, Willis overcame his dour background and became an indie music star in 1990s’ Chicago. After being diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of 27, Willis immersed himself in drawing to battle the voices in his head. He called his psychotic experiences “Hell rides” and rock ‘n’ roll became the way to combat these episodes.

Initially discovered by local bohemian crowd for his artwork, his friends persuaded him to focus his muse/demons on music, and he eventually recorded over 50 CDS for Oglio, Alternative Tentacles and other small labels. American Recordings signed him to a major label deal in 1996, near the end of the alt-rock craze. The albums sold poorly, but Willis continued to record and develop a cult following.  Most of the songs are pretty much identical, musically speaking, and many of the lyrics have a fill in the template kind of feel. In this clip from the Howard Stern show, the lyrics to Willis’ homage to Baba Booey is basically the same as the one to Howard.

His infectious songs will make you burst out laughing. My favorite Willis song “Rock and Roll McDonalds” contains the deadpan recitation “McDonald's sells quarter pounders/ They will put pounds on you.” The un-ironic, plain speak delivery makes it even funnier. (Note: Rock and Roll McDonald's is a real place in Chicago’s trendy River North. The restaurant is decorated with pictures of Elvis and other stars.)

As the Daddy of Rock ‘N’ Roll documentary shows, Willis was kind of a scary looking figure at first sight. At  6 feet, 5 inches tall and  300 pounds,he often wore mismatched sweatpants and shirts and went shoeless. Add wild, ratty  hair and crooked teeth to this ensemble and,  yeah, you  could mistake him for a scary homeless guy.  He usually turned out to be quite a sweetheart when his torture hellride demons weren’t getting to him, that is. He wrote his lyrics on a computer at Kinkos, rode city buses, and hung out with  a tight-knit group of friends and musicians.

Check out Loved Like a Milkshake: A Tribute to Wesley Willis at Archive.org. , with cover versions of his tributes to Alanis Morrisette and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Memorable titles include I Smoke Weed and Suck a Cheetah’s Dick (many Willis songs dealt with similar subjects, just change name of animal and body part) and My Keyboard Got Damaged.  Willis died of leukemia in 2003 at age 40. We miss you, big guy!

Jan Terri: Suburbia’s Answer to Wesley Willis? 

If Willis was the city’s idea of an outsider musician, Jan Terri is white suburbia’s version. Full Disclosure: I went to college with Terri, and even visited her at her Mom’s house once to write a song. Sad to say, the tune was never finished. It wasn’t until someone posted a video of  Losing You on Facebook that I realized she still existed. One quick glance at the video and I knew it was the same girl I’d gone to school with - there’s no mistaking her one of a kind physical appearance. Her music videos were notable in a cheesy, Rebecca Black “Friday” way. Of course, a lot of people post self-produced efforts on YouTube, despite their apparent lack of talent or production values. But Terri’s videos had that extra “something” that turned her into an Internet meme.  What Terri lacked in conventional talent, she made up in chutzpah.  She hawked her homemade music videos to biz people in the ‘90s. Not surprisingly, Marilyn Manson took notice and hired Terri as an opening act for one of his Chicago concerts in 1999.

Like Willis, a certain segment of the hipster population has taken to Terri, perhaps overthinking her persona, as in this article.  Terri is currently recording and planning a comeback for the digital age.

Music Review: Prima Donna: Bless This Mess

Prima Donna, a five-piece band from L.A, has rattled venues in Southern California and beyond since 2004. They've already put down their brash hybrid of punk and glitter rock with a who’s who of famous and infamous punk bands. The group opened for Green Day on the band’s 2009-2010 European tour, and the band’s singer/guitarist, Kevin Preston, performs with the Foxboro Hot Tubs, a Green Day side project. Prior to that, their onstage cohorts in rock ‘n’ roll crime included Texas Terri, Glen Matlock & the Philistines, Eddie and the Hot Rods, and plenty of local SoCal punk bands.

Their first album on Acetate Records, After Hours, introduced their modern take on glitter rock to a wider audience. The band’s second release on the label, Bless This Mess, revs things up a few notches with the help of engineer Chris Dugan’s (Green Day, Iggy Pop) faultless production.

The 12 songs on Bless This Mess have a cleaner, and more mainstream appeal than Prima Donna’s previous efforts, but the songwriting and rock bravado are as sharp as ever. The catchy album opener “Sociopath,” the confident, strutting bop of “Maxine,” and the "Jeepster" era T. Rex undercurrent of the single “Feral Children” are enough to reel in even the most jaded listener. But there are nine more impressive tunes on the CD, and Prima Donna delivers the kind of unapologetic rock energy on it that is missing from most up-and-coming bands touted by the mainstream rock press.

Preston has old-school rock charisma and is quite the frontman in concert. Guitarist Erik Arcane, bass player “Lights Out” Levine and drummer David S. Field provide a non-stop, rock ‘n’ roll party sound derived from influential rockers of the past like the Ramones and Mott the Hoople. Aaron Minton’s sax playing gives the band that something extra, that bit of musical swagger and spice that sets them apart from the handful of young glam punk bands on the scene today. It’s like combining Johnny Thunders’ descendents on guitar (Preston, Arcane) with X-Ray Spex. The foot-stomping “Miss Avenue,” with its sax intro and rollicking piano interlude, defy listeners to stand still.

“Broken” is the album’s most distinctive cut. It wraps ‘60s Brit Invasion pop with the band’s glam influences. It really demonstrates how their sound has evolved.

It looks like 2012 will be a busy year for Prima Donna. They’ve already received a write-up in the Huffington Post for their performance at London’s KerPUNK Festival. They were filmed for a Corona Beer commercial, and their European tour is in full swing in February and March, with a U.S. tour to follow.

Bless this Mess is scheduled for release on Valentine’s Day. If you’re a fan of straight-on, raunchy rock ‘n’ roll, and are tired of scouring iTunes and your old vinyl collection for retro faves, you’ll appreciate Prima Donna’s music. And if you’re a young fan who wants to sample your generation’s version of hipster-free, high-energy rock ‘n’ roll, look no further than Bless This Mess.

Read more:

http://blogcritics.org/music/article/music-review-prima-donna-bless-this/

Book Review: Marlene Dietrich: Life and Legend by Steven Bach

Steven Bach’s well-researched biography explores every lush detail of screen legend Dietrich’s life. First published by Morrow Books in 1992, University of Minnesota Press issued a reprint in March 2011.

Bach documents Dietrich’s early career in Berlin in the first part of the book. Actress Mia May reminisces about the young Dietrich, “People used to follow her through the streets of Berlin; they would laugh at her, but she fascinated them; she made them talk.” Bach reveals that Dietrich studied to be a violinist, but turned to acting after a wrist injury stunted her music career. The chapters "Home Front" and "Lili Marlene" chronicle Dietrich’s role as a tireless performer for the USO and supporter of the American war effort.

Much of the book centers around her Svengali-like relationship with director Josef von Sternberg, who cast her as Lola-Lola in Blue Angel and engineered her iconic films Morocco and Blonde Venus. Author/film executive Bach has something of an inside track on the subject, since he studied film with von Sternberg. Bach sprinkles the book with inside details about Dietrich’s love affairs with Jimmy Stewart, French actor Jean Gabin, John Wayne and other famous men. Most of these affairs took place while she was still married to her only husband, Rudolf Sieber. Dietrich remained friends with Sieber til his death, even befriending his mistress and paying many of the couple’s bills. Along the way, Bach offers more mundane, behind the facade tidbits, such as Dietrich’s insistence on a sparking clean dressing room prior to cabaret performances. She sometimes arrived early, scrubbing floors herself if they were not to her liking.

This 626-page book includes a filmography and over 100 black and white photos. While it doesn’t provide the insider view of her daughter Maria Rivas’s Marlene or mention much about her bisexuality, even film buffs and hardcore Dietrich fans will learn something new from this biography. Some readers may find the prose long-winded, but it’s a vivid read that befits Dietrich’s life.

Read more at Blogcritics :http://blogcritics.org/books/article/book-review-marlene-dietrich-life-and/

Memories of El Duce (of the Mentors)

Some rock ‘n’ roll characters  are so offbeat and offensive to the mainstream mindset that they are forever destined to be cult figures.  El Duce (real name Eldon Hoke) of the Mentors was such a character.

One night in 1983 I walked into the Cathay de Grande, a notorious punk rock club/dive in Hollywood.  Already disoriented after downing three tequila sunrises, I  see three guys  in black executioners hoods walk onto the dingy stage. El Duce, the band’s drummer/lead singer, had a kit decorated with porno pics. The band played three-chord, Spinal tap metal-punk about subjects like the 4 F Club ("Find Her, Feel Her Fuck Her, Forget Her"), anal sex, and other misogynistic tirades. Hard to listen to, yes, but it was a shock-rock act.  Was it seriously PMRC-worthy? I'm not so sure about that.

“What the hell is this?” I thought. One mohawked kid at the back of the club had his own critique “What cultural significance!”, he bellowed.

The next morning, I called up my friend Tony from the pay phone at Howie’s Weekly Apartments (now a Motel 6), where I was living at the time. “Tony, I said, “You’re not gonna believe what I saw at the Cathay last night.” I described the executioners’ hoods and the whole shtick.

“What a buncha fuck!” Tony responded. His curiosity was piqued and he just had to see this abomination for himself.  

In Hollywood, in the 1980s and early 1990s, everybody encountered El or the Mentors. Duff McKagan, in his book “It’s So Easy and Other Lies” recalls the time Sickie Wifebeater, the Mentors’ guitarist, asked him to be the band’s new bass player. Duff declined. A wise choice.

After a few years of club-hopping around Hollywood, my friends and I knew El well enough to enlist him as comic relief in a video we made.  El crushed a beer can on his head and danced around- the famous Duce dance.

On a stormy Valentine’s Day in 1986, the Mentors played a gig at Club Lingerie.  I told Tony, “We’re all going to see the Mentors.” Tony responded with a bloodcurdling “NOOOOOOOOOO.” After the initial novelty wore off, this was a common reaction to seeing the Mentors stage act.

As I continued my rock ‘n’ roll travels, I met people in New Orleans and Florida who had encountered El, usually at sleazy bars. Most descriptions of El Duce contained the words “drunk” and “passed out.”

In the mid-1990s,  El claimed that Courtney Love had offered him money to kill Kurt Cobain and he was filmed for the documentary Kurt and Courtney. A few weeks later, a train in Riverside offed him. The conspiracy theorists had a field day with that one. However, El was more than capable of walking in front of a train of his own volition.

R.I.P., El Duce.

The Mentors continue today sans El Duce.See their Facebook page here.