Documentary Review: Nightclubbing: The Birth of Punk Rock in NYC

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2022
Images from the Internet, unless indicated

Nightclubbing: The Birth of Punk Rock in NYC
Directed by Danny Garcia
Chip Baker Films; Dudeski; MVD Entertainment
80 minutes, 2022
www.facebook.com/nightclubbingdoc

From 1975 through its closing in 1981, I was frequently a denizen of Max’s Kansas City, a club that had been open much longer than I had been attending, and was about a block north of the northeast end of Union Square Park, right on Park Avenue. The reason for my being there was not for the imbibition of alcohol, drugs or bathroom sex (all of which was concurrent with the scene), but I was there to hear the music.

Over the years, I attended a multitude of shows, supporting the venue in that way. The Heartbreakers, Wayne County and the Backstreet Boys, the Fast; heck, we interviewed thefreakin’ Ramones in the upstairs dressing room the night before they left for their first tour of the U.K. in July 1976.

Relatively early, after 10 PM, I would drive to the venue, usually finding a spot around the corner, being post-neighborhood suppers and pre-show times. I’d wait for my companions in front of the downstairs restaurant bay window, with a sill that had a 3-inch round sticker that read “Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys” stuck to it for years.

I honestly don’t remember ever eating in the downstairs restaurant, nor managing to be cool enough to get into the infamous back room, but one of my writers, Nancy Neon, interviewed the Heartbreakers’ Walter Lure there the night they closed the back room down. 

Then came the walk up the long and broad staircase, manned at the top by the person taking the admission fee. Often, this was the patron saint of the club and booker, Peter Crowley. Occasionally, he would just let me in.

When walking into the main room, you were facing the middle of the bar, the walls surrounded by artfully placed photos of some of the larger names to come to the site, taken by the leading photographers of the scene.

To the right was a huge bay window overlooking Park Avenue (funny, I don’t remember ever seeing it in the daylight) and immediately to the right were the bathrooms, which had some quite raucous and humorous graffiti, such as intimations to DeeDee Ramone’s appendage offering.

Wayne County and the Backstreet Boys
(photo by Robert Barry Francos)

Entering the staging area, the DJ booth was to the left, and if you were lucky, it was a night when Wayne/Jayne County was spinning. In front was a row of dining booth, and then there were the long, vertical communal tables where you sat near whomever you sat nearby. The view of the stage was clear wherever you were. These tables were up against the stage, so there was usually no dancing (much to the chagrin and annoyance of Eddie and the Hot Rods, the night I saw them, with the Fast opening). Because we got there early, we would sit in the middle to get a great view, and order some fries and a beer. I don’t believe I ever had any of their infamous chick peas (I’m not a fan).

At the time I was attending Max’s, there were two venues that “invented punk rock,” both in rivalries, but they often had the top bands playing at both (e.g., the Ramones). They honestly (in my opinion) both deserve the title of birth of punk, though the other site gets more credit, and I believe that is because of a well-timed, on-air tee shirt worn by a member of Gun N’ Roses. However, Max’s was there first, open for proto bands like the New York Dolls, the Stooges, and the Velvet Underground, who were creating a scene half a decade before the other place.

The Fast (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

That is where Danny Garcia comes in. The man has a history of documentaries about nascent punk, such as Looking for Johnny: The Legend of Johnny Thunders (2014), Sad Vacation: The Last Days of Sid and Nancy (2016), and STIV: No Compromise, No Regrets (2019), the latter about the lead singer of the Dead Boys.  

By this point, Garcia knows all the key players and assembles them to do this film version of an oral history that absorbs the viewer right from the start. The documentary begins with quick, unidentified clips of musicians and artists making comments, but this is the prologue. I recognized 90 percent of them.

Donna Destri (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

After respectfully setting up the idea that this was about Max’s and not CBGB, the history of Max’s early days is given, during its Andy Warhol phase and after, when the artistic elite – such as musicians, painters, and writers – all packed that small room, much to the delight of each other. Many a major record deal was signed in that hallowed spot. Musician Elliot Murphy makes a wise analogy connecting Max’s back room with the infamous Algonquin Round Table. This is off to an excellent start.

There are plenty of early clips of artists on the Max’s stage, focusing on the big ones like Alice Cooper, the Stooges, the VU, the New York Dolls, and even Sid Vicious (though that was later), who was both a regular there in his later days, and even played on its stage a number of times. Due to the age and technology, many of these clips are shown as B-roll over contemporary interviews with the likes of Cooper, or music bytes.

The Heroes/Heartbreakers (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

While there are other sources for the early days of Max’s (such as the book High on Rebellion: Inside the Underground at Max’s Kansas City by Yvonne Sewalll-Ruskin), this documentary is all truly fascinating; for me, however, the story ramps up for the second phase of Max’s, when the original owner Micky Ruskin gave way to different ownership by Tommy Dean, and then Crowley came on the scene to turn a restaurant that played music occasionally to a venue known mostly for the bands that would play there. At this point, there is a bit of a screed again CBGB (“…where the style of dress is different, and the attitude is different, and the presentation is different.”); CBs definitely finds its way into this story, but the primary focus is on Max’s.

Along with the obvious historical timelines, etc., part of what makes this documentary so compelling to me is the numerous side stories, such as DeeDee’s girlfriend trying to dismember the member mentioned above, or the fight between Jayne County and a very belligerent and drunk Handsome Dick Manitoba of the Dictators, and the schism it caused in the scene at the time. The almost Comix style animation used to highlight this little groundbreaking bout that would synergize the two clubs is spot on.

The Senders (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

The interviews are a large part of the story, but it does not feel overwhelming. There are a lot of talking over the live performances and still photos, and even, as mentioned above, the occasional animation. This keeps the focus on the oral history, without becoming tedious.

As with most documentaries that are heavy with interviews, there is a level of participation needed from the audience as to who the main characters are, even with the briefest of information given about them (name, name of band, for example). This is no issue with people like Cooper, or Billy Idol, HR (Bad Brains), Neon Leon, or even probably the amazing Lenny Kaye. But I wonder how the novice to the scene would know about some really important personalities, such as the lovely Singer/scenestress Donna Destri or Leee Black Childers (heck, I can’t even begin to list his accomplishments, they are so deep and varied to especially Max’s).

Eddie and the Hot Rods (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

There are dozens of people who are crucial to the music scene, presented in both contemporary and archival footage, including (but not only) Jesse Malin, Jimmy Zero (Dead Boys), Steve Stevens (Billy Idol Band), Harley Flanagan, Mickey Leigh, Penny Arcade, and arguably one of the biggest Max’s supporters over the decades and interesting musician in his own right, Jimi Lalumia. Archival footage includes some that have passed on too soon, like Leee Black Childers (d. 2014), Sylvain Sylvain (d. 2021), and Alan Vega (d. 2016), among others.

Presented is also some clips from live shows, such as Alice Cooper, the Testors, Ruby and the Rednecks, the Stooges, and a very fuzzy Sid Viscous. For those interested, and it should be anyone reading this, both the Stooges and Vicious footage are newly found and this is its premiere. I like that they mixed some bands that are unknown to the mainstream, along with some of the bigger names.

Ronnie and the Jitters (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

Overall, this is a riveting revival for Max’s (though the brief uptown Max’s revival is wisely ignored), and this is a bit rambling over the history in a way that keeps the interest rather than getting bogged down in logistics and historical timelines. And if one if into punk of that period, whether you were there or not, it is worth a watch. Maybe take some notes.

Meanwhile, the film will be opening up this summer teamed along with another new Garcia documentary, Sid: The Final Curtain, about Sid's adventures in New York between leaving the Pistols and his ridiculously unnecessary death. Sid has long been a topic of interest to Garcia; however, I am hoping at some point he will direct his skills towards a study on Jayne County, the Person Zero (along with Suicide’s Alan Vega) who – this film acknowledges in its opening – kick-started the whole New York City punk rock scene.

IMBD Listing HERE

Bonus:

DVD Review: Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Produced and directed by Tony D’Annunzio

74 minutes, 2016

www.thegrandeballroomstory.com

www.mvdvisual.com

When most people think of music from Detroit in the ‘60s to ‘70s, the first bound to come to mind is Motown. Great stuff, no doubt, but there was more to the city than that. Out of the industrial city came a thunder of guitars, unprecedented attitude, and attack-mode rock from a venue called the Grande Ballroom. The title of the documentary comes from the music of the Grande being more voluminous than another club called Love a few blocks over, but I also think it could be interpreted as being louder than most of the other music from either Coast during that Summer of Love. The MC5, the Stooges (with Iggy Pop), Alice Cooper, the Frost, and even the Amboy Dukes rose out of the Grande to change the face of music and prepare the way for the punk movement that was to come nearly a decade later out of New York.

The Grande Ballroom (pronounced Grand-ee), however, was not the “Detroit CBGBs,” but more like an explosive Fillmore (pick East or West), in which many of the touring rock bands, such as the Who, Big Brother and the Holding Company, and Cream would play on their way across the States.

Though actually only around for a relatively short while (1967-1972), the effect on American – and British for that matter – music is undeniable. Sure the Stones had Toronto as their fave place, but the Who were so enamoured with the Grande that they premiered Tommy on its stage. Alice Cooper points out here that the talent level on that stage so was high that it was either get better to get lost. To inspire bands, the crowd was known to shout out, you got it, “Kick out the jams, motherfucker!” which is the origin of the MC5’s infamous and ground-breaking call to arms.

The amount of interviews throughout the documentary are staggering including nearly all surviving members of the MC5, Roger Daltry, Alice Cooper, Dick Wagner (d. 2014), BB King (d. 2014), Slash, Lemmy (d. 2015), Grand funk Railroad’s Mark Farner, the omnipresent Henry Rollins (who was 11 years old when the club closed, but is acknowledged to be a huge Stooges fan), Stooges’ second guitarist James Williamson, and even scuzzbucket right wing nutcase Ted Nugent (while I didn’t necessarily need to hear anything he had to say, the Amboy Dukes were an amazing band). No Iggy, though, FYI.

For me, one of the important interviews was with Russ Gibb, who was the owner and founder of the Grande, on the level of Bill Graham without the ego. Well, him and most of the staff of the place are interviewed in detail with lots of anecdotes. Which brings me to:

There are three themes in this that are worth nothing. First and foremost are the interviews, including with Ruth Hoffman, a self-described groupie who tells a tale of getting drunk with someone and comparing men’s butts, only to find the person get up on stage and it’s Janis Joplin. Or, the stories of the whole audience participating in loading up a band’s gear so they can make it to the airport. Then there’s someone bringing Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker to their parents’ home for supper. There are these, along with the “The Stooges!” “Alice Cooper!” “The Who!” meshugas.

Second, there are the images. I am not talking about the talking heads interviews, I mean both the live footage and stills from the day that show just how extreme the entire scene quickly became. There’s everything from onstage action to, well, Eric and Ginger at the family supper.

What I found also interesting was the juxtaposition shots of what the Grande looked like then and its condition now, but more on that later.

For me, the weakest spot is the use of music. Listen, I understand that if all the music discussed would be played as a focal point, this film would be about 20 hours long. That being said, most the sounds you hear are in the background; it runs through the whole film, but little of it is identified except in the song credits at the end. Also, in most cases, it’s snippets… well, probably, because it is in the background under the dialog, so it’s hard to pay attention to it except peripherally. But if that’s the biggest complaint I have, it’s a mere four bars considering the magnitude of the story behind it.

There are a number of really nice extras. The first, at nearly 16 minutes, is “Grande Tales,” which is further interviews (with no indication of who is talking, so watch the film first). At nearly a half hour, you can see what their infamous light shows looked like (sans sound… or mind altering substances). After the 5-minute long trailer, there’s “Dave Miller Grande Wedding,” at nearly 4 minutes. Dave was the MC, and his wedding show was infamous among the inner circle; he wore outrageous make-up that makes Alice Cooper’s look moderate, and it’s also silent, as is the next 10-minute long “Dave Miler’s Home Movies” (I’m guessing 16mm), where he shoots various band members at his parent’s house. It’s a lot of fuzzy fun. Last up is “Belle Isle Love In” (1967), another silent home movie lasting over 5 minutes that focuses in on the audience (especially the women) as much as the bands.

When the Grande closed in 1972 (though there is no mention of why here), the building was abandoned and is in a state of severe disrepair. Watching the comparison shots of the place then and now is both fascinating and heartbreaking. Personally, I’d love to see it become a heritage building, and have the Detroit government not only fix it up, but turn it into a museum. But, of course, Detroit is broke, so that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.

Considering the number of talking heads, the stories are fascinating enough to keep the viewers’ interest for the entire time, and D’Annunzio keeps his ego in check to make this just the right length to do that. A must for anyone who is into rock history, the nascent beginnings of punk, or just love to hear stories about that period. A visual kicking out of the jams.

Bonus video (not on DVD):

THE TURTLES: Music’s Pride & Joy (Etc.) [1988]

Text by Dawn Eden / FFanzeen, 1988

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015

Images from the Internet

This interview / article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #15, dated 1988. It was written by Dawn Eden.

The only time I ever had the opportunity to see a version of the Turtles was when lead singers Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman had their bookended Flo and Eddie stint, opening for Alice Cooper’s Billion Dollar Babies tour at Madison Square Garden during June of 1973. Eventually, they returned to the Turtles name, after their Greatest Hits CD helped make Rhino Records a solvent company. Also, a good friend of mine interviewed Kaylan at some point, and when asked why the name return, he was quite open, stating how much they earned as Flo and Eddie compared to payments for the Turtles.

One of the more interesting aspects of this article is that it is usually Kaylan who does the interviewing, but here, Dawn manages to strike up a convo with the wild-haired Volman.

On that note, Kaylan recently released an absorbing autobiography, co-written with music historian/mensch Jeff Tamarkin, titled Shell Shocked: My Life with the Turtles, Flo & Eddie, and Frank Zappa, etc. [reviewed HERE]. – RBF, 2015

Then

In today’s incestuous Top-40 world, musicians switch from one band to another faster than you can say Sammy Hagar. It’s rare for a band to stay around for 10 years, let alone 25 years. And the number of successful bands whose members have played together since high school can be counted on the gaps between David Bowie’s teeth. Which makes it all the more unusual to look at Flo and Eddie, the nucleus of the Turtles.

FFanzeen caught up with Mark “Flo” Volman in his suite at Atlantic City’s Trump Plaza the day after he and partner Howard “Eddie” Kaylan played there.

Volman and Kaylan met in their Westchester, California, high school’s a capella choir. In 1962, Volman joined Kaylan’s surf band, the Crossfires, who became one of Redondo Beach’s most popular groups. The Crossfires were the house band at the Rebelaire Club when they were discovered by White Whale Records in 1965. After changing their name to the Turtles, they recorded a cover of Bob Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me Babe,” and almost instantly found themselves elevated to the ranks of rock and roll royalty.

Volman reflects fondly upon the Turtles’ early, innocent years: “When you think [about] what happened to us, and how few bands that happens to in history – how you start as a high school band and years later, find your songs making it into the Top-10 and competing against the biggest in America – you don’t really consider that plausible. That is a dream. When you’re in high school, your main thing is to get out of high school. I mean, for me it was to get out of science class.”

Now

Recently, “Happy Together,” the Turtles’ 1967 No. 1 hit and biggest seller, was being revived in a number of forms. It was used as the theme song of the film Making Mr. Right, and a video of the song mixing scenes from the movie with live Turtles footage was added to the VH-1 cable station’s playlist. The single was also reissued by Rhino Records, the label that reissued the Turtles’ entire catalog of albums.

Oddly enough, “Happy Together,” which is still Our Song to millions of love-struck couples, is really about unrequited love. According to Volman, “A lot of people overlook one very important part of the song. Even as we made the record, we may not have been concerned with its actual philosophy… It starts out, ‘Imagine me and you…’ If you say one thing [about] that record, all we’ve immediately done, to anybody who’s really listening, is paint a picture that this is all a fantasy. It’s all make-believe. It’s the story of a boy who’s fantasizing over a girl who he doesn’t have. ‘Imagine me and you…’” Volman repeated. “There is no relationship. They are not ‘together,’ but, ‘I can’t see me loving nobody but you.’ Lyrically, this record never pays off. The boy never gets what he wants.”

After the Turtles broke up in 1970, Volman and Kaylan performed and recorded with Frank Zappa’s infamous Mothers of Invention. During the same period, they released several solo albums. Because legal hassles prevented them from recording under the Turtles’ name at the time, they took on the nicknames of their former roadies: Flo (short for “The Phlorescent Leech”) and Eddie [The Best of Flo and Eddie, on Rhino Records, is an excellent introduction to their solo career – DE, 1988]. They also embarked upon a second career, that of singing back-up on other artists’ albums. Volman and Kaylan backed up just about every major artist, from John Lennon to Bruce Springsteen.

Ronnie, Bruce, Howard and Mark

Volman says that he and Kaylan met Springsteen by a fluke. They were friends with his road manager, who invited them to attend a Cleveland concert on the Born to Run Tour. Volman picks it up from there: “While we were at the soundcheck, Bruce called me and Howard out of the audience and asked if we wanted to join him, singing [back-up] with Ronnie Spector. I was real surprised he even knew who we were. We rehearsed right there at the soundcheck, and we ended up singing with him and Ronnie in that night’s show! It was real fun.” Volman and Kaylan later did several more shows with Springsteen, and even sang on The River [1980].

In light of the recent commercial that uses “Happy Together” to hawk Golden Grahams, Flo and Eddie have truly come full circle. More than a decade ago, on one of their classic albums, they performed a sketch about a practice that was almost unheard of then. Volman recalls: “What Howard and I were raving about was taking rock and roll and using it as a commercial product. We were saying, ‘What if you took Fleetwood Mac’s big hit and used it to advertise McDonald’s Big Mac?’ It was [meant as] comedy. You go back and listen to it and it’s not dated at all. It’s me and Howard singing to ‘Rhiannon’: ‘You deserve a break today, so come to McDonald’s.’”

 

 

Book Review: Shell Shocked, by Howard Kaylan with Jeff Tamarkin

 Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet
 

Shell Shocked: My life with the Turtles, Flo & Eddie, and Frank Zappa, etc…
By Howard Kaylan, with Jeff Tamarkin
Backbeat Books (Milwaukee)
An imprint of Hal Leonard
277 pages; $24.99: 2013
ISBN: 978-1-61780-846-3
www.backbeatbooks.com

When little Howie Kaplan grew up, sorta, he was known by many names; but we know him as Eddie, and especially by Howard Kaylan. If you sprouted listening to ‘60s radio, you knew his chubby face, facial hair, and principally his voice.

Sure, he has backed up some of the biggest music stars of the ‘70s, such as Zappa, Springsteen (do you really need a given names?), Marc Bolan, Alice Cooper, and even the Ramones.

While the even more physically memorably hirsute and chunky Mark Volman (aka Phlorescent Leech, or Flo, for short) has been his partner for umpteen years, it’s Kaylan you think of when you hear the pride and joy of “Elenore,” “Happy Together,” “You Showed Me,” “She’d Rather Be With Me,” et-cet-trah.

Starting life as a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn, then upstate New York, and finally transplanted in his formative years to sunny SoCal, his life changed – as with so many others of his generation – with the introduction of rock and roll, the Beatles, and then Bobby Dylan (also a man of many names).

Fame came early for Kaylan and Volman, and with quick success and youth, along with the period in history that was exploding around them, also arose what Ian Dury would famously coin, Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll.

I have read a number of autobios of musicians, such as Cheetah Chrome (Dead Boys), Slash (Guns n’ Roses / Velvet Revolver) and Andy McCoy (Hanoi Rocks), and there is a similar trajectory with a difference in that while they were poor and fighting to get off the mean streets, Kaylan grew up middle class and had a relatively decent childhood. And yet they have all had ups and downs in their career, making and losing tons of cash, the involvement of drugs, wild stories on the road, and multiple partners and wives. However, as far as the descriptors go, the bigger distinction is that Kaylan approaches the whole meshugas with a wicked sense of humor, usually pointed at his own faults and failings. For example, from page 76:

So, not to brag or compare myself to an NBA player, but it was astounding to me, as a not-so-attractive teenager, how many women I was able to “be with” – and this continued into the ‘80s: lined up in the hallways, crossing paths in the lobby preceding the shift change… [sic] Of course, with each lady came baggage. I heard more stories about parents and brothers and unfaithful boyfriends and school than I care to recall. In fact, fortunately, I recall none of them. A switch in my brain could accept a certain amount of palaver without even taking it in. Click. Ah! That’s better. Now I don’t hear a word you’re saying. Oh, is that your bra?

Every bio has its own quirk. For example, Slash repeats the line “all things considered” into the ground. For Kaylan, it’s more like a cliffhanger with the verbal tic lines of, to paraphrase, “I should have known what would happen next…” Note that is my observation, not a complaint. It comes across as the reader is on the ascension of a roller coaster, and you’re about to hit the peak of the upward climb leading to, wheeeee.

My one bone to pick is that as well as the good times, I also wanted to learn about the lean. He mentions that he had to go on unemployment a few times, but never really dives into the depth of what that entailed or was like for him. It was more like a sigh of “oy” than getting the feeling of any kind of depth on the topic. The only despair he does invite the reader into with some feeling is the death of some loved ones, such as Marc Bolan.

Naturally, there is a lot in the book of the Turtles period, of Zappa, on tour with Alice Cooper (I saw Flo and Eddie open for Cooper’s Billion Dollar Babies tour at Madison Square Garden on June 23, 1973), but short shrift about the period after, during the mid-1980s until present, other than a few mentions of going into the studio with various musicians as back-up, like the abovementioned Ramones. I laughed when he describes working with Boston’s garage legends DMZ and Jeff “Monoman” Conolly (I saw Conolly’s the Lyres a few times, but never DMZ), whose music he describes as “punk”; I’m not sure, however, if Kaylan knows the difference between ‘60s-style punk and punk rock, but I digress…

Kaylan has the pleasure of knowing, meeting or seeing the performance of some of the most important rock legends of his day, from Hendrix to Joplin, and bedding a bevy of beautiful women, such as Miss Pamela (DesBarres). While he doesn’t shy away from indiscretions, such as his own, Volman’s or those of the late Zappa (d. 1993; I wonder what Gail Zappa thinks of this book), he discusses rather than describes in detail (a point I applaude).

Even with all the trials and tribulations of Kaylan’s life, much like his music this is a feel-good book, such as he describes the sound of the Turtles, a style they adapted, changing from folk rock after they heard the Lovin’ Spoonful. It’s more of an enjoyable beach read than, say, something academic or meant to give a deep message, like Jim Carroll’s (d. 2009) overrated The Basketball Diaries (1978). If you are at all familiar with the sound of the Turtles, that will give you an indication of the zeitgeist of the book, if you extrapolate a tad.

Unsurprisingly, Penn Gillette’s forward is wicked funny and caustic, and yet gives the impression of fandom and loyalty to a band and man he never expected to like, yet learned there’s more to the music than appears at first listen.

This book is based on Kaylan’s extensive journals that he kept throughout his career. To help him edit his writing, Kaylan wisely chose music historian and writer Jeff Tamarkin, who famously wrote Got a Revolution! The Turbulent Flight of the Jefferson Airplane in 2003. His vast knowledge of the music scene on the West Coast during the 1960s and ‘70s certainly helped. I’m hoping he can perhaps persuade Kaylan to write a more detailed expose of his life in the last half, as this is so focused on the first.

Bonus videos:

DVD Review: Unauthorized and Proud of It: The Story of Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

Unauthorized and Proud of It: The Story of Rock ‘n’ Roll Comics - Special Edition
Directed by Ilko Davidov
Wild Eye Releasing
84 minutes, 2005 / 2012
Wildeyedvd.com
MVDvisual.com

Revolutionary Comics, the company that put out Rock’n’Roll Comics, was sadly short-lived, as was its creator, John Cusack-lookalike Todd Lauren (nee Stuart Loren Shapiro). With a mixture of r’n’r attitude and capitalist entrepreneurialism, Todd took his dream as far as he could go before his murder in 1992 at the age of 32.

Some people loved Todd for what he was doing, some hated him for how he did it, and others felt a mixture of the two for the same reasons. This documentary features all of these opinions, taking a less-than sentimental look at Todd, his products, and those directly or indirectly affected by him.

Essentially, what Revolutionary Comics started doing was publishing “unauthorized” band histories in comic form. Sometimes the artwork was crude (reminiscent of the Chick religious tracts), oft the information was wrong, and much of it in black-and-white. As the owner of a bunch of them, however, I can tell you they were interesting and fun to read, even about the bands I wasn’t into.

The first issue focused on Gun n’ Roses, and in typical fashion, Axl Rose threatened to sue, which brought on a media fire that shot the sales of the book up astronomically. Some musicians not only didn’t mind being featured, but were happy about it, such as AC/DC (in fact, some pages of their comic form are published in The Illustrated History of AC/DC by Phil Sutcliffe, published earlier this year). KISS also reportedly was happy with the output.

Two of the artists that go on video record here that endorse their lives in print are Alice Cooper and Mojo Nixon. In fact, Nixon rather gushes about Loren. However, Todd was sued by New Kids on the Block, who had just had an “authorized” comic done by Harvey Comics; Loren won the case.

Those who were often not big fans of Todd, however, were apparently the stable of writers and artists (many are interviewed here), of whom were allegedly often taken advantage. One example given a few times is that when Loren gave the talent a check for their work, the back had a stamp on it saying that Todd owned the rights of the work into perpetuity. Essentially, to endorse (and thereby cash) the check, one had to agree to the terms. If you ask me, this is what capitalism in its purist form is all about: taking advantage.

Possibly his biggest critic was fellow comics publisher, Denis Kitchen, who produced Kitchen Sink Press (including The Crow, Death Rattle [one of my faves], Melody, Snarf, and Omaha the Cat Dancer) until 1999. In direct competition, Kitchen riles against Loren’s business practices with a mixture of righteous indignation and possible resentfulness of his success.

Music wasn’t the only topic of Revolutionary Comics, though. Loren also released Conspiracy Comics (the JFK assassination, etc), sports, porn (as did Kitchen Sink Press), and an arguably infamous horror short story series called Tipper Gore Stories. This was a (rightly) slap in the face to the politican’s wife who was intent on censoring records with her PMRC (Parent’s Music Resource Center) group. It is here we find a meta-story about Revolutionary Comics, as the DVD delves into First Amendment rights, which Loren was supposedly championing (how much was true indignation and how much good publicity, is up for debate).

Where Revolutionary Comics (et al.) would have ended up, who knows, had not Todd been murdered (supposedly by someone he picked up; I worked with a person to whom that this happened). In a supposition of theories which is quite interesting, the documentary presumes that it may have been done by serial killer Andrew Cunanan, who also killed Gianni Versace, among others. By some of the home movies, interviews and other information presented via people around him, big possibilities loomed; of course, according to his dad, a key figure here, he would have become a multi-millionaire.

There are also some nifty extras tacked on, including video producer Duane Dimoch giving anecdotes about Todd’s personality, writer Robert Gates describing how he got assigned the KISS comic and met the band, and of special interest to me, Cynthia Plaster Caster discusses in detail how she obtained the genital casts of both Jimi Hendrix (which we see) and his bassist Noel Redding.

A fascinating release on so many different levels, its scope covers many areas of interest for both music and comics fans, as well as freedom of speech issues and gay lifestyles.

DVD Review: From Straight to Bizarre

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

From Straight to Bizarre: Zappa, Beefheart, Alice Cooper and L.A.’s Lunatic Fringe
Executive Producer: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual, 2011
161 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedream.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Frank Zappa (RIP, 1993) has always been known as bit of a lunatic, be it his diverse and non-mainstream musical directions, to his meandering anti-censorship rants during the whole ‘80s PMRC debacle led by Tipper Gore (Al’s spouse).

However, it was this borderline behavior that made him able to land a foot on both sides of the line, appealing equally to those in the straight world (i.e., general audiences) and those on the bizarre periphery (i.e., the fringe of culture). Because of this, he became a mediator of the latter to bring them into the former, even if only in the representative form of a 12-inch oil-based black disc with their voices.

As a visionary living in the hills of the Los Angles, Frank attracted groupies (including making them babysitters for then-young son Dweezil and -infant daughter Moon Unit), schizophrenics, control freaks, and rockers trying to find their direction. Obviously, Frank felt a bond with them, as he was usually seen as an “other,” or trickster character on the scene.

After finding some success with his own releases, such as the Mothers of Invention’s seminal Freak Out, Frank managed to get the record label to support his own vanity label, Bizarre, which he started with Herb Cohen; and after they were dismayed by the lack of sales and cancelled it, he started another called Straight (the DVD title has it backwards, y’see), until its collapse in 1973.

To paraphrase a song by the band Sparks, talent wasn’t a needed asset for those who joined in the Zappa stable. Rather, it was a collective of degrees, from very able to those whose personality and oddity weighed in more than culturally classical facility.

Despite being L.A.-focused, their first artist was actually New York singer-songwriter Sandy Hurvitz, who would later go more famously by the moniker Essra Mohawk. According to Mohawk, who is interviewed on this DVD, she had a personal relationship with Frank, which soured, resulting in him leaving her studio tracks unfinished as far as tweaking, and that was the reason for the lack of success of the product. Actually, that becomes the central theme here: Zappa was all gung-ho, something happened between him and the artist(s) with whom he was working, and he bailed on the final work. This was also true for the groupie/dancers-turned-singers collective known as the GTOs (Girls Together Outrageously, two of whom are interviewed here including the lovely Miss Pamela DesBarres), the Alice Cooper band, and Captain Beefheart (RIP, 2010), to name a few.

As for Larry “Wild Man” Fischer (RIP, 2011), the crack in their working relationship happened after his release, when he psychotically accused Zappa of not paying him royalties on records that he believed sold better than it actually did (see the recent film about Fischer, DeRailroaded for his entertaining-yet-sad side of the story), which lead to his one Zappa-released album never to be reissued. Due to health reasons, both mental and physical, Fischer was not a part of this documentary.

While Captain Beefheart was a control freak who kept his Magic Band on a very short leash, Zappa (his ex-college roommate, apparently) was equally prickly, which of course makes the story of the Bizarre/Straight labels all the more interesting looking back in the rearview mirror (as Marshall McLuhan may have put it).

Surely, Zappa is the more recognized name, but Cohen also has his cadre of artists that mostly went nowhere, that are also represented on this DVD, such as Tim Buckley (RIP, 1975), Jerry Yester (ex-Lovin’ Spoonful) and his wife Judy Henske, and Harlem-based R&B a cappella group the Persuasions (lead singer Jerry Lawson tells some great anecdotes here), among others.

For nearly three hours, this Chrome Dreams documentary (this is the second by them on Zappa I’ve seen) keeps the attention level high, by relying more on the people who were there and directly affected, rather than only those who reported on it (though it’s always a joy to see and hear music historian Richie Unterberger). While chock full of rare clips of the band – both visual and aural – it is these recent interviews that really put out tales from the past and make it not just academic, but palpably alive. There are two members of the GTOs (the aforementioned Miss Pamela, and Miss Mercy Fontenot, aka Judith Peters), two from the first lineup of the Nazz, aka the Alice Cooper Band (drummer Neal Smith and bassist Dennis Dunaway), two of the Magic Band (drummer John French, aka Drumbo, and guitarist Bill Karkleroad, aka Zoot Horn Rollo), Essra Mohawk, and scenester and ever creepy Kim Fowley. For the historians, along with Unterberger, there are the likes of Zappa biographers Billy James, Barry Miles and Ben Watson, and others who wrote extensively on the Los Angeles music scene.

This is possibly one of the best of the Chrome Dreams series I’ve been fortunate to see, and I’ve seen quite a few now. By wisely focusing on the musicians and those there, and keeping the music biographers / historians / critics as more of a Greek Chorus rather than the core, they have produced a document that is much more first hand reporting, and thereby making the story more than just second-person circumstantial.

There are two extras (along with the usual contributors bios and an online link): First up is “The Art of Persuasion: Jerry Lawson and Frank Zappa After the Straight Label.” During its 5:40 length, Lawson discusses his band’s contribution to the Frank Zappa tribute album, Frank, after his passing. They did “The Meek Shall Inherit Nothing,” which we hear in a clip.

Second is “Hunger!: The Struggles of the Magic Band,” which describes the diets (minimal, mostly veggies, due to lack of funds) forced on the band by Beefheart, and how this resulted in the band getting arrested for stealing food.

Both of these are fun, and just the right length.



Bonus Videos:

CD and DVD Reviews: Quiet Corner Column, New Year 2011

This was originally published in Jersey Beat fanzine at www.jerseybeat.com, for my Quiet Corner column at www.jerseybeat.com/quietcorner.html. If you are interested in my reviewing your release, contact me at rbf55@msn.com and I will give you the address to ship off CD, DVD, etc. - RBF, 2011.

fu WILLIE ALEXANDER AND THE BOOM BOOM BAND finally reunited after their seminal (though mostly overlooked) albums of the early ‘80s, and released Dog Bar Yacht Club (Fisheye Records, c/o williealexander.com) in 2005, but this is the first I’m getting to hear it, so I’m reviewing it now because it deserves mention. Willie is one the founders of the Boston scene in the ‘70s, along with the Modern Lovers and their ilk, producing some powerful pieces along the way, from “Hit Her Wid De Axe” and “Radio Heart” to “Bass Rocks,” to his more mainstream Boom Boom Band releases. The re-gathered BBB shows why they should have been more in the spotlight. This CD rocks out like Willie can when he wants, from the first cut on. His extremely distinctive voice is an indication that one is going to hear something worth listening. There is a mix of styles here, from rock to more esoteric ballads, but it’s all Willie; even when he covers his own material, as he does with “AAWW” (from when he was with the Confessions back in ’82), he makes it his own - again. There may be white on the roof, but there’s still a fire in the vocal chords.

I have found that most times bands with great names (e.g., Phil ‘N the Blanks) are equally bad in sound. Fortunately, the hilariously-named AMISH ELECTRIC CHAIR take their straight-ahead punk and slam with it on Straight. No Chaser (ccrecords.com). The Athens, Ohio band sounds pretty damn good in a classic DC-style sense on this 15-minute EP, a prelude to their next full release. It is chock full of buzz saw and fury. My fave of the five cuts in the chant-worthy “Jellico, Tennessee,” but any of these could be picked for solid songs and playing. Worth checking out.

Bjork (and/or the Sugarcubes) is hardly the only chanteuse to come out of the isle of Iceland. ÓLÖF ARNALDS, of the group Mum, who is more under the radar (so far), is also so much more content and style than the over-the-top Bjork. Ólöf’s CD, Við Og Við (onelittleindian-us.com/new/artists/olofarnalds/), translated as “We and We,” is full of the simple backing of a guitar or ukulele, and Ólöf’s aerie voice, which is chilling and warm at the same time. Now, I have no idea what she’s singing, as I don’t comprende her Icelandic franca lingua, but the mixture of the familiar folkiness mixed with occasional local vocal tricks and trilling make these songs, such as on the title cut, like still water with the ripple running out; smooth and a touch mysterious, but never boring. Without knowledge or context, I found myself smiling. All the cuts are equally charming, so I suggest listening to them all.

AUDIO-OK is an East German group who has been around for a while, although this is their first release. The short Good Men (info@PussycatKillKill.de) is actually kind of bland. There are some formulaic melodies and rhythms (both standard instruments and electronic), which they more shoot lyrics at the listener, rather than speak or sing them. “Bad News,” the opener as an example, is basically about a dead woman, and how disappointed and annoyed they are that she’s dead. It is sort of reminiscent of rap in tone, though the rhythm is definitely more r’n’r than hip-hop. To me, they’re evocative of the Manchester sound of the late ‘80s, not one of my fave styles.

MARTY BALIN does not get appreciated enough as a driving force for what became the San Francisco sound in the ‘60s. As an original member of Jefferson Airplane and its less progressive Starship, Balin set the ball rollin’ way back. He’s been doing his own thing along the way, and is still kicking, as is seen on this DVD, Live at the Boston Esplanade: June 14, 2008 (DVD, 150 min; MVDvisual.com). Still in good voice with a wicked guitar, Balin struts his stuff, with the huge audience singing along. Lots of good hits here from throughout his career, such as “Miracles,” and of course the Airplane hits with Boston legend Didi Stewart slickly filling in ably for Grace. And oh, there’s so much more as extras on this. There are three clips from DVD producer Joe Viglione’s cable access show, Visual Radio, including a 50 minute one-camera interview with Balin from 1995. While there are parts that could have been edited out, it’s still quite interesting as Balin talks about hanging out with Joplin just days before her death as she played him what would be the Pearl album, for example. Additional shorter clips include interviews with other Airplane experts, including writer Jeff Tamarkin (his book on Jefferson A, the first about the band, is a great read), and with Airplane’s pre-Slick lead singer, Signe Anderson. There are also some other rare live performances thrown in. A keeper.

KEVIN BARKER is the guitarist of the group Vetiver, and now he can add solo artist to his repertoire with You and Me (myspace.com/kwkbarker). He grew up in the DC punk scene, but one would never know it listening to this collection of slow folkie-‘60s pop style harmonies. He certainly didn’t absorb the punk 1-2-3-4, with the songs here averaging better than 5 minutes each. The beard and long hair definitely reflect his musical buddy and cult icon, Devendra Banhart rather than, say, Henry Garfield. But Barker has a fine sound. His rhythms are similar in a da-dum dom-da-dum way, yet his voice is smooth, working well in harmony with others, like Erick Johnson and especially Lily Chapin in the opener, “Little Picture of You.” Harmony and melody are actually the two words to posit Barker’s work. Barker lives in Brooklyn now; all the better.

Though PAUL BENOIT is based in Seattle, his light blues tones sound more Midwestern (either north and south, depending on the tune). His fifth solo, Blue Bird (paulbenoitmusic.com), shows the experience of his 20 years in the biz. His voice has just a touch of gravel and his fingers fly over the blues notes, but this isn’t Son House or B.B. King kind of wailing blues, this is lighter, much more mellow and laid-back, leaning towards blues tinged singer-songwriters like Dave Matthews and Jason Mraz. Now that I’ve put that on the table, let me be clear that I really find Matthews and Mraz dull as dirt, but Paul has a flair that feels intimate and enjoyable, and certainly not as musically vain, pretentious, and “I’m so precious” as the other two. Benoit has a unique voice, both in musical sound and vocal intonation, with a way wide “A,” such as straynger, pahty, which is interesting. He starts off strong with the title track, which has a melody line in the chorus that is reminiscent of Ray Charles’ “Georgia” (a song which is also a good indication of Benoit’s style). Other good cuts include “Call You Out” and “Leave It As It Lies” (with which he beautifully shares the vocals with Janne Jacobsen). Recorded in El Salvador, there are tinges of the local music that nicely bleed through, like “Plow” and “Sad Melody.” Easy listening that is an easy listen.

The nearly 30-minute I’m A Man EP (glp.caprimusic.co.uk) by Leeds, UK, group CAPRI is longer than many full-lengthers, so you’re getting a good deal here. Capri is an amazing funkadelic collective with John McCallum as its voice. Steeped in ‘70s sounds, it’s hardly only waa-waa based (as some funk was back then, and not only to its detriment, but I digress), but solid musicianship. Capri’s cover of Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m a Man” is a good measure of the mood. There are five cuts here, three of which are live and two are remixes of earlier songs. This EP just never lets up, with horns, keyboards, and even some aforementioned guitar waa-waas. McCallum does a great job fronting, and on “Putting it All Together,” guest vocalist (also on GLP) Lara Rose puts the final touch onto a great sound. If you like funk, you’re bound to find this exciting.

Chris Donnelly and Daniel Woodward started CAPRI in the late ‘90s as a funk instrumental group, and then wisely added John McCallum on vox. As they are a band that sounds at their most exciting in person, Live at The Wardrobe (glp.caprimusic.co.uk) was a fine choice for a release. I wrote a bit about their style in the review directly above, so I won’t reiterate. This 10-cut, nearly hour long CD never eases up, and just stays a dance party from beginning to end. James Brown may be gone, but Capri shows his legacy is not only alive, it’s funk-ay. The songs are long, averaging about 5 minutes each, but it passes quickly. What a fun band. Starting off with an instrumental, “Dance of the Minotaur,” the vocals kick in on “Heatstroke,” and keeps going through numbers like “Shake It,” “Afro Collision,” a cover of “You Really Got Me” (do I need to say who did the original, really?), “Barbarella,” and ending with a 9:41 medley of “Chopper Song” / “Drum Solo” / “Saved.” Put this on, play it loud, shut your eyes, and let the clear recording bring you out to the Wardrobe.

TIM CARROLL has come a long way since his days as one of the later Gizmos, out in Bloomington, IN. All Kinds of Pain (gulcher.gemm.com) is a just a, well, “wow” listen. Even though he has quite a few solo releases, honestly, this is the first one I’ve heard, and it is amazing. With just Tim playing nearly everything except drums (by Marco Giovino), he wisely let it be co-produced by Tom Spaulding… it’s usually a bad idea to do everything without someone else’s input somewhere. I almost want to stop reviewing stuff and play this again and again (and I’ve gone through three times as I write this). Tim covers a bunch of forms here, starting with a shredder, “Soybeans, Cotton and Corn,” and then settles into the contemplative “Can’t Stay Young” (as the chorus continues, “but you can stay cool”), one of the better aging songs I’ve heard since Monty Love stated “Being young is only in your head.” Lots of styles are touched on here, from talking blues of “Educated” to the country “If I Could,” to classic I-IV-V drive of “Run For Love.” Each genre he covers seems natural. The title cut is a slow burner and the heartfelt and beautifully phrased desperation of “If I Could,” the taste of the same vibe of “That’s What I’m For”… Shit, I can’t decide, this album is just so good and so full of amazing music. This has to be in my top picks of 2010.

South Jersey girl LAURA CHEADLE is fun-kay; well, her music certainly is. With a sharp R&B feel, it is positive, be it ballad or uptempo, and highly sensual, with numbers like the opener of Live On (lauracheadle.com), “Constantly,” “In the AM,” and “Whatever Moves You.” She whacks the listener on the side of the head with the mutha-funkin’ (her term) “Funk is Dead,” which has a wonderful catch that may have you humming well past listening. The prolific musician, with the help of her family of Cheadles, continually seems to produce memorable melodies, fun lyrics, and with Laura’s natural (i.e., not “studio-produced”) voice, you can dance, rock back and forth, or just smile, but you’re going to have a good time. As any reviewer knows, you listen to a CD perhaps a couple of times to get the feel of it, and then it goes on the shelf. Well this one will be joining the likes of Mary Gatchell (now THAT would be a great double bill), Tamara Hey and Angela Easterling on the regular playlist at this abode.

Whether it’s too late or too early for this review of LAURA CHEADLE and her A Christmas Album (Jazz Bone; c/o lauracheadle.com), but it’s certainly worth noting, and possibly ordering for the next holiday season. Laura has a really lovely R&B-influenced jazzy vibe going, and it comes across clear and warm in this mix of classics and new tunes. Along with the likes of “Let it Snow,” “Deck the Halls,” and an appropriately sexy “Santa Baby,” she also brings the new and equally vampish “Givin’ You Me for Christmas” and “Let’s Get Together for Christmas.” This collection has sort of a demo feel to it, but in this case it initially words in its favor. Rather than having a compressed sound as most released have these days, this one is so intimate it really seems like Laura and her keyboards are in your living room, singing in your ear. For someone like me who is usually sick of Christmas tunes by early December, this one continues to be listenable.

MATTHEW CURRAN is one of those pain-in-the-ass guitarists who was playing complex songs at the age of 10. Do I sound jealous? Yeah, well I am. At age 19, Curran has released Simplify (myspace.com/matthewcurran), his first solo effort, which is naturally guitar-fueled, hard-melody-driven late ‘60’s style classic rock that borrows more from Beck-Clapton-Page than, say, Van Halen-Slash. Fortunately, keeping with the title, the songs are more than guitar solo showcases (though they’re definitely there in shorter bursts). Carron’s voice is not as blaring as some of the classic rockers, but I see that as a positive, because it means that he doesn’t need to hide in a show of mere style. His vocals have a mainstream quality, as do the hooklines to these all original tunes. My prediction is that if he makes it to the larger radio audience, he may fill auditoriums and be a rock teen-idol.

DARK SUNNY LAND is the name Boston-based Steve Painter has adapted for his musical exhibition, and Kon Taan Kor (gulcher.gemm.com) is the release. At first, I had the name of the band/title backwards. Using various objects (including instruments), Painter –- er – paints a soundscape that is not ambient in the classic notation, but it is rather harmonic sounds that contain a notion of melody without being linear about it. It’s sort of like walking in a jungle of sound. Each piece is an average of over seven minutes, which gives the noise enough time to envelop the listener, and to make some semblance of sense. Interesting to put on as a mood background when doing art.

Where Were the Mothers?: An Artist Project by Linda Duvall (lindaduvall.com) is a complex, yet incredibly impelling work by various artists. She joins together established Canadian musicians with street people and others who have had a rocky life, and each pairing perform a song the musician has co-written (the lyrics are mostly by the people in trouble, and the music is written either jointly with the musician, or by one or the other. The singing talent varies by person, including some with amazing voices, such as Chris and Mashyk (though not only them), and others who you can hear the absolute wear on their bodies through a life filled with drugs, gang affiliations, prison, prostitution, and the like. The styles range from rap to hard rock, from folk to traditional First Nations (Native Americans). The central theme is obviously geared towards the mothers of these singers, ranging from “how could you treat me like that” to “please forgive me for my disrespect.” However, they are all touching. This is a magnificent project, and if you look up Linda’s Web site you can see/hear clips from some of these cuts, but I recommend finding out how to obtain this disk, which also comes with a DVD on how the project progressed.

Hailing from Leeds, UK, the EAST PARK REGGAE COLLECTIVE sing of love and war (either anti-, or about the social one to come) on The Frontline (glp.caprimusic.co.uk). This group is comprised of non-Jamaicans and takes a number of different riddems, and make some really decent music. The accents are a bit questionable, but even so, Anna Stott, the lead singer of this mixed gender minyan, actually has quite the pipes, and is a joy to hear. With her put-on accent, it’s occasionally hard to make out what she’s saying, but her voice will still keep the listener attentive. Whether singing about the “Wicked Ones” who rule, complaining about another “Woman,” or the war in “Bomber Jacket,” she keeps the flow smooth.

The press release for JOE FIRSTMAN is wordy, but seems to struggle on a description: “The songs aren’t country, but they are songs that somehow take you to the country.” Why not just say Americana, which is a fitting genre, if one must use genre terms. On his fifth release (including two early ones on Atlantic), El Porto (joefirstman.com), Firstman drops his first since leaving as bandmaster on the Carson Daley Show (I’ve never watched it). Right from the first cut, “Marlene and Her Sisters,” Firstman sets up his pastiche, looking at lives in a smaller (southern? He originates from North Carolina, though now a LA resident) town. Usually in first person, he points out people, like “Mr. Wilson” and “The Candle Maker,” and opens their existence to us, usually in relation to the song’s protagonist. I don’t know if these are real people or imaginary, but Firstman makes them pretty human in the short span of the song. There are some strong country influences, but the PR is right, it’s not country but rather a blend into Americana. I haven’t heard Firstman’s previous works, but this one is just dandy.

THE FISH EYE BROTHERS is Willie Alexander and Jim Doherty, with able backing musicians, and their collective is represented with When the Swan was on the Boulevard (Fisheye Records, c/o williealexander.com). If you don’t know, Willie was the replacement for Lou Reed when he left the Velvets, and he toured Europe with them. The reason I bring this up now is because this release shows Willie’s more esoteric, experimental side that made him such a good fit with the VU. The music here is out there, with jazz riffs, non-syntactic melodies, and dreamy lyrics that are sometimes just repeated over and over (as in “Rhubarb Pie”). Some of the outstanding pieces here include “Me and My Doppelganger,” “Cruisin’ Boise,” “Barbara Reid,” and the opener, “My 34.” If you like unconventional music, or just can’t get enough of Willie, I believe you found what you were looking for in this.

FOX PASS are old-school Boston rock’n’roll. The band, who originate from the pre-punk period of the mid-‘70s, still releases music that is enjoyable, such as with their latest, Intemporel (Actuality Records, c/o foxpassmusic.com). This is a full 72 minute CD, which, as they state, is “designed to be enjoyed as a 4-sided double album.” Whether vocalist/guitarist Jon Macey is writing with Michael J. Roy (back-up vocals and guitar), or with fellow bandmate Steve Gillian in their side project (Macey & Gilligan), the man can write a catchy song. And on this CD, there are 17 of them. It’s so hard to pick faves here, because they all have that Macey jinglesque pop that sticks in your head after the song plays, only to be replaced by the next song on the disk. Anyone from that period of Boston knows that Fox Pass is a band to enjoy both live and captured. And just think, a four-sided album for the price of one disk.

Imagine, if you may, the illegitimate offspring mind-frame of New England’s pop-folksters the Mammals and the Velvet Underground (think “Sunday Morning”). Well, if your brain hasn’t exploded, I’ll explain. FREELANCE WHALES, a New York based quintet, takes the harmonies and slightly off-kilter quirky harmonious sounds of the former, and mixes them up with non-standard instrumentalization and dissonance of the latter. On Weathervanes (frenchkissrecords.com), there is a harmonium, glockenspiel, synthesizers, guitars, banjo, and cello. I wouldn’t necessarily call it electronica as much as liquid synthetic. Occasionally they even borrow strongly from Dream Academy’s “Life in a Northern Town.” No matter what they’re singing about, it feels happy and peppy. And the synthesized parts are handled well, I’m grateful to say.

Montreal singer-songwriter WILLIAM FUNK releases his first collection, The Veronica Sessions (timelineaudio.com), after recording most of the material in Puerto Rico. There is a definite Latino “air” to this, especially the opener, “Beautiful Martes” (which strangely has an opening that sounds very close to the second song, “Won Day Ave”). Funk has a good voice, with unique peccadilloes that add to the sound. There are some strong cuts here, like “Castles & Prison Cells,” “Eyes of a Crescent Moon,” and “Mystics,” which has a decidedly East Indian and Arabic flair, adding to the feel. Funk has a good sense of song structure and melody, with catchy pop folk pastiches. “If You Can Feel Me Inside (Veronica’s Song-2)” is especially effective, with a children’s chorus that works so well with this tune. These songs are produced by fellow Montréaler and three time Juno nominee, Joe Barrucco; however, that is where my contention of this album lay. There is just too much studio muddling, with many self-vocal overdubs, reverb thrown in at the end of stanzas, and in “My Other You (All My Life”), one whole set of voices using an auto-tune in that electronic bullshit that T-Pain and Jamie Foxx use, which I absolutely detest. Then again, Barrucco is known for house music and dance beats, so is this really a surprise? I understand Funk is grateful to have someone with such a big name in the industry take him under his wing, but I would prefer to see him live, without all the gizmogology that weighs this coulda-been-amazing CD down.

BRETT GLEASON’s first release, The Dissonance (brettgleason.com), states he’s a cross between Nine Inch Nails and Tori Amos, in a “unique fusion of alternative rock electronica.” Hmmm, comparing him to two highly artsy-fartsy / pretentious artists; however, Brett uses the dissonant chord noises and keyboards as much as a weapon and a symbol of what he is saying. His playing if full of striking chords in a choppy – or chopping – motion, cutting at and through his material. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The songs, at first glance, are full of ideas of “control” and suppression, but much in the way Lisa Loeb does, he uses that claustrophobia and harsh life moments to persevere (such as “I’m Not Afraid,” or as in “The Worst Part”: “All the broken attempts / to control their mess / Are proven futile / By your absence”). The lyrics are poetic, but accessible. The perpetrator through each piece is simply referred to as “he,” but there is always a reaching for self-redemption, as in “The Escape.” Even in the closer, “Idealize the Dead,” Gleason fights “to be alive inside / It means to never hide.” Yeah, there’s manipulation of sounds and vocals, but he uses them wisely to promote the message rather than drown it. This is certainly a dark release, but with a light somewhere in view. Oh, and there’s a “hidden” sixth track, for those who follow these things.

Through a home studio, JEN GLOECKNER takes musicians with the likes of guitar (acoustic and electric), drums, cello, violin (masterly handled by Joel Zifkin), mandolin and keyboards, and she managed to make a lot of noise on her sophomore release, Mouth of Mars (Spinning Head, c/o myspace.com/jengloeckner). With a flinty voice and a minimalist sense of lyrics, she weaves discordance and dissonance into tunes that stand out. “Die” has a memorable chorus, while “Sleep to Dream” is a work of otherworldliness. Influenced, seemingly by the likes of Captain Beefheart, or the Velvet Underground’s mix of sweet melodies over sometimes subtle noises that are at other times cacophonous; unlike the VU, however, this is more jazz-folk than avant-garde rock. All the songs have the seeds of intrigue and are imaginative. “Let’s Get Honest” is a short piece that sounds like a spiritual put through a spin cycle (I’m not even sure what that means, but it feels right). “Peace Among the Chaos” has a sound reminiscent of the ‘60s chanteuses like Sandi Shaw and Françoise Hardy. It’s an interesting collection that is bound to be listened to more than once, to get all of the nuances.

I truly hope ADAM GREEN made a fortune off them using his Moldy Peaches (with Kimya Dawson) song in the film Juno. That being said, this is the second CD I’ve heard of his as a solo… C’mon, really? This guy is an indie darling? I tried to like his latest, Minor Love (fatpossum.com), but it just comes across as insipid. I mean, Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers covered this kind of material 30 years ago, and so much better. Over slight lo-fi tracks which use a lot of sampling, Green sings unimaginative melodies filled with ditties that work with his voice, but this is so rinky-dink. I do believe he’s trying to be edgy, but no, he’s not achieving it. The press release says this is “a more serious side of this prolific, truly original New York artist.” First of all, this is the serious side? I can tell he’s trying with numbers like “Boss Inside,” but it’s about as deep as a plastic children’s pool. I mean, at least two songs use the word flatulence. Second, “prolific” usually means that no one is editing out the chafe. Third, “original?” Naw, Kimya does this better as a solo than Green. I’m glad that the songs average about 2 minutes, so the 14 songs last about 30 minutes.

John Ringhofer goes by the nom de tune HALF-HANDED CLOUD, and Cut Me Down & Count My Rings (asthmatickitty.com) is his fifth full length release, this one being a collection of his material that was added to comps, cassettes, fanzine disks, and the like. All 78 minutes here are covered in 46 songs. Ringhofer, who plays just about everything on everything, from brass to strings including percussion and electronica, is in that style that many refer to as “twee,” such as Kimya Dawson and Adam Green. His niche, though, is spirituality, mostly in a religious/Christian bent. His high-pitched voice is pleasant in a casual pop-folk way, and he has a way with a melody, but he consistently burden’s his pieces with all this musically squiggly dissonant noises that one is apt to view as either cutesy or annoying. I’m of the latter. I may enjoy his work more solo with a guitar, but here it’s kind of grating. I can certainly understand his appeal as he is idiosyncratic in a They Might Be Giants vein, but by the end of this looooong CD of very short songs, I was grateful for its completion. Note I felt this way about Adam Green as well, though I do have a bit more tolerance for Kimya, but only somewhat.

KEVIN HUELBIG, JR. is total DIY. His CD, Snowstorm (Monotonetapes.com), comes with a hand cut-and-paste cover sheet. This lo-fi recording sounds like a living room (or basement) tape, which it is, “recorded at home sporadically between April ’07 and June ’09.” With influences including (in his own statement) Lou Barlow, the Beach Boys, Guided by Voices and My Bloody Valentine, Kevin pushes the lo-fi to the extreme, which includes rough overdubs, fine if noisy notes, and some decent harmonies actually (must be the “Beach Boys” part). There’s a bit of distortion, as if it were recorded a bit too much in the red, but that’s part of the whole lo-fi DYI credo, it seems. Be interesting to hear Kevin live. If you’re into this genre, and I know you’re out there, this is right up there. Particularly effective are “Are They Coming Home?” and the closer, “Nothing Gets Me Down,” with nice shared vocals by Emily August.

Both JOE HURLEY and COLUM McCAIN are credited with the EP-length The House That Horse Built (Let the Great World Spin) (RoguesMarch.com). The text is based on/taken from a part of McCain’s novel, “Let the Great World Spin,” about the life of an older prostitute. Hurley does a sort of non-gravely (yet similar shady phrasing) Tom Waits turn is this compelling work, which mixes a jazz/blues vibe. My only complaint is its length, being at less than 13 minutes, because I wanted to hear more. Hurley’s adaptation of McCain’s words into another beautiful piece of work is quite beautiful in its own right.

From the title of PATRICK KAVANEY AND THE LAST DRAGS’s Darning Socks for the Apocalypse (workingstiffrecords.com), one may think we’re talking punk, but no, PK&TLD is a mix of country and Americana, with some rock’n’roll thrown in. But one thing is when they are witty, they spare no expense, with songs like “Spanish Nightmare,” “Delusion & Grandeur” (as in being on the corner of), “Looking Forward Back,” and “Ego Bandito.” Yet even with the puns, the songs are strong and tend toward the ballad, but stay pretty strong. Kavaney’s voice is well suited for this material, and what also makes this record is its basis of strings: guitars, lap guitar, slide guitar, and bass flow through, with a real good rhythm holding it up. There’s even a bit of Tex-Mex thrown in with “Waking Song.” They may be from Oregon, but they have that more southern sound down. Not as harsh as, say, southern rock, or as bland as modern country; rather they’re somewhere in-between, with a rich, full sound.

Residing currently in Berlin, Scotsman JIM KROFT balances the sounds of his two homes within his debut, Between The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea (myspace.com/jimkroft). There is sturm & drang mixed with British ‘80s-‘90s style wall of sound; think Pet Shop Boys without the annoying synth beat. There is definitely a Beatleseque feel to some of his material (i.e., McCartney) in tunes like “Tales of the Dark Side.” Jim likes to belt it out, which is fortunate because he needs to be heard over the production, but fortunately he is capable. Happily, Kroft also apparently knows his way around a melody. The songs are smart (for example, “One Sees the Sun” is based on meeting “The Outsider” author Colin Wilson), dealing with alienation and feeling out of place (hence the s&d). While this is heavily produced, it does not necessarily fall into the 10 Ten blandness, though it could easily cross over between pop and the charts. It would be interesting to hear him toned down, playing live with just guitar (yeah, I say that a lot).

HOLLY MIRANDA has apparently left Jealous Girlfriend to go solo with The Musician’s Private Library (hollymiranda.com). There are a lot of somnambulistic related analogies here, such as “Sweet Dreams,” “Everytime I Go to Sleep,” and “Sleep on Fire” (and I would include the opener, “Forest Green Oh Green Forest”), which is not surprising considering Miranda’s sound. Highly processed through double overdub, echo, reverb, etc., it’s a lush soundscape where the lyrics occasionally suffer (i.e., hard to make out), but her aerie and haunting vocals hover above all the luxuriant sounds and music that come through the speaker, piled high in the studio. How does she do all this live, I wonder (she recently toured with Tegan and Sara, FYI)? There is also a blunted electronica sound that usually works here, despite its rinky-dink plunking. It’s a charming collection, for sure, despite going close to the edge of where my interests stop.

THE OGeeZ informed me that although their full release is The Seven Deadly Sins (TheOGeeZ.com), “we have no religious agenda with our message. Our message is meant to be thought-provoking, but whimsical.” The OGeeZ, at their best, are a funk outfit (founded on the classic rock duo of Lew Witter/vox and Steve Gerick/music) based in SF. Except for the two or three verses here and there where they break into rap for a couple of stanzas, they’re a good listen. Obviously, there is a theme here, the better ones being lust (“Is This Lust or Is This Love?”) and the relationship discord of pride (“Pride Gets in My Way). Most of the other cuts range from R&B to further funk, and then there is the Latino-beat themed sloth (“There’s Always Manana”). As they say, “we have chosen a more contemporary approach to our music poetry in which we want our music to complement and enhance our storytelling.” I don’t know how well this will go over with the under-30 crowd, but I found it effective.

Early on, after playing with Johnny Thunders in the Harlows during the pre-Dolls, Lou Harlow transformed into guitar metal maven, LOU RONE. He nearly became the next guitarist for the Yardbirds as they fell apart, so he came back to NYC, playing in a bunch of bands, such as Kongress (who I saw play the Eglin Theater’s opening night), Von Lmo, and the heavy Triple Cross. Still going strong, Guitar Slinger (gulcher.gemm.com), his latest guitar instrumental opus, shows his growth. The man can play whatever he wants, Jimi-style, just wailing on the six-string. With backing tracks, Rone stretches the instrument into rapid fire metal, such as in “Mallet Face,” to ambient noise with “Come Roberta, Come,” and the bluesy “Tired Lady Blues.” Each piece is a metal world all its own, so if you’re into guitar solos, well, this will be heaven for ya. A solid hour of wail. With the exception of a cover of the Chantel’s “Maybe,” these originals prove Rone has a mastery of his guitar domain, and he’s willing to bend the instrument’s will to his own.

The first recording (though not first released) by SPANKY AND OUR GANG was their live one. Now, 35 years after their dissolve, S&OG have dropped the also live Back Home Americana, Vol. 1 (eclipserecording.com), recorded at both the Tradewinds in St. Augustine, Florida, and at a house concert. Thanks to legendary engineer Dinky Dawson, the sound is seemless. As with that first one, many of the songs here are blues and jazz based, like the hand-clappin’ “Make Me a Pallet on the Floor” (John Hurt), “Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues” (Ida Cox), and the traditional “Stewball.” There are a couple of gospelers, like the classic folkie cover “Sinnerman” and Eric Bibb’s “Don’t Let Nobody Get Your Spirit Down.” There is also some of the California sound that S&OG were famous for (though they’re from F-L-A), with “Everybody’s Talkin’” and, of course, the Mama’s and the Papa’s “California Dreamin’.” While many of the original members have been updated, especially notable is Jim Carrick, who does quite a few vocals here, but original member Nigel Pickering, 80 at the time of this recording, comes up to sing Willie Nelson’s “Ain’t It Funny How Time Slips Away,” his distinctive voice a bit ragged, but still in relatively fine form, humor definitely intact (his “Distance,” on one of those early LPs, remains a fave S&OG track). And what of Spanky McFarlane? She’s still fronting the group, but her voice has certainly changed; it is much deeper with a stronger vibrato, and to be honest, I don’t think I would have recognized it if I hadn’t known it was hers. For example, on their first and eponymous LP, she powered through a very moving version of the Depression classic, “Brother Can You Spare a Dime?” Redone here, it’s touching because her vocals are strained and cracks. Don’t get me wrong, I love S&OG, even through their country phase, but perhaps rather than a live recording, a studio release may have been wiser? That being said, I’m STILL glad Spanky’s back, and look forward to hearing some material that’s better suited for her voice now, like the more jazzy and blues pieces, such as “Wild Women.” I still love ya, Spanky!

The core trio (and a few high-power Memphis-based step-ins) of STAR AND MICEY (starandmicey.com) cover a bunch of styles, from Motown-inspired (“My Beginning”) to blues (“So Much Pain”), gentle R&B pop (“Late Night”), alt pop (“She’s on Fire”), to alt rock’n’roll. Though there isn’t really a bad song here, vocalist Joshua Cosby starts off strong with my fave cut on the release, “Salvation Army Clothes,” a solid rock blueser that alone is worth seeking them out (of course, in Canada, it would have been called “Sally Ann Clothes, but I digress…). Nick Redmond and Geoff Smith’s solidify the sound into a firm yet fluid unit. I also appreciate that they adapt the genres to their own, rather than trying to “Pat Boone” them, which is noted.

PHILIP STEVENSON has been in quite a few groups, most notably Carnival of Souls and Quinine. Now he has released his second solo effort, Starless (nightworldrecords.com). The music is an interesting swirl of sounds with a rhythm and purpose, and hardly what one would call formulaic. It’s a brave effort and works well. That being said, this is also a frustrating work, which indirectly has nothing to do with Stevenson himself. His voice is soft, and often whispery, but it is so far back in the mix and distorted by echo, I usually have no idea what the fuck he’s saying. If you’re going to sing in a sotto voce, at least put it up front. For example, “Weak Boys” builds stronger and louder, but the vocals don’t follow suit, so it just becomes noise. This may as well have been an instrumental release. This seems totally unfair to both Stevenson, and especially the listener. There is a bit of the Byrds’ “Eight Miles High” kind of clatter. When he is allowed to be more present in the tune, like the ballad “Don’t Go Now,” he has a Dylanesque tone to his voice, while “Don’t Go Now” has sort of a early solo Lennon; and it is more enjoyable to be able to hear his thoughts. “Where I Don’t Belong” has a latter Beatles / George Harrison feel to the vox, even weighed down by an over-applied echo, as does “I’m a Boy,” which sounds like a prequel to Spencer Davis Band’s “I’m a Man.” A good effort, and I would like to see a bit more of Stevenson’s presence in his own recording.

First a brief history lesson: DICK WAGNER is a songwriter and guitarist whose work has appeared on over 150 albums, including mainstreamers Aerosmith, KISS, and Lou Reed; he was the musical director and tunesmith for Alice Cooper during Coop’s glory years, and has collected 14 platinum records, 16 gold, 5 silver, and numerous songwriter awards. Never heard of him? That’s part of the problem of supporting so many others. Full Meltdown (desertdreamsllc.com) collects some of his solo work in a single 70+ minute disc, most recorded between 1979 and 1995. Needless to say, the genre is guitar-fronted rock. Wagner really does deserve the recognition, and this collection is the proof. Sure, on some cuts he is reminiscent of styles from hair metal to Bon Jovi, and straight through the rock canon, but can anyone consider someone as “formulaic” when they are one of the architects of the mold? Wagner’s vocals are solid, and the guitarwork is unsurprisingly flaring and razor sharp. While the production occasionally has that ‘80s hollow bottom sound and gloss that was industry standard for a number of years, his songs rise well above. He has a Meat Loaf (with whom he’s also worked) melodic wall-of-sound that works to his benefit. Lots of great cuts, such as “Motor City Showdown” (he is a Detroit native), and the lengthy ballad “I Might As Well Be on Mars.” If you rocked in the ‘70s and ‘80s, this surely will not let you down.

Produced by BEN WINSHIP and DAVID THOMPSON, Fishing Music II (Snake River, c/o fishingmusic.com) shows that one album of songs about life and fishin’ just ain’t enough. And I say that in the least snarky way. No, I’m not into fishing, and I didn’t even hear the first volume, but this Appalachian banjo Americana and ‘40s jazz style release recorded in Idaho can be easily taken on its own merits. Joining Winship and Thompson is a plethora of musicians and vocalists, including Tim and Mollie O’Brien. Sometimes, here, fish and fishing are used as metaphor, such as the opener “Little Miss Cutthroat,” which does for women/fish what Chuck Berry did for women/cars, or “I Caught a Keeper.” There are instrumentals that reflect the specs of water caused by “dancing” fish and others that sound like fish gliding through the water (“Lost River” and “The Winding Stream,” respectively), and there’s even some comedy in “Gone Fishin’” as a couple engage in playful banter of accusing each other of skipping chores for, well, aren’t you following this? There’s also a couple of really moving, well done pieces, like “Old Bamboo” (one of my faves), and even some traditional numbers like “Everybody’s Fishin’” (this arrangement sounds like it could have been done by the Andrews Sisters), and a moving version of the spiritual, “Wade in the Water.” I still may not want to go fishing, myself, but I’m starting to get a hankering for some salmon, just for the halibut.

In the press release, frontman of WAKEY! WAKEY! Michael Grubbs invokes Billy Joel, Elton John and Led Zeppelin. Well, I decided to listen to their second release, Almost Everything I Wish I Said the Last Time I Saw You… (thefamilyrecords.com), anyway. If Grubbs’ name sounds familiar, it seems he was (is?) a semi-regular on “One Tree Hill,” as the bartender named – er – Grubbs. Still, I decided to listen to this anyway. I received a promo copy of this CD that didn’t even have a song list; couldn’t even find it on the Web. So, I contacted their publicity people to request they send it. Meanwhile, I listened to it anyway. Fortunately, it was quite enjoyable. Once I got the list, I listened to it again. The alt-pop sound reminds me a bit of My Chemical Romance and the aforementioned Billy Joel, both of whom I find dreadfully tiresome, but on most of these songs, WW rises above that and usually remains interesting. Starting off really strong with “Almost Everything” and “The Oh Song,” the piano-fueled sound (where the Joel and John mention come in) is rife full of catchy melodies, usually using the higher range keys on the keyboard to keep the sound light, and with Grubbs’ vocals and mildly mannered intonation, they work well together. There are a couple of weak spots here and there, such as the too musically cutesy “Square Peg Round Hole” and “Feral Love,” but overall this is pretty solid. The bonus cut #11, “Take It Like a Man,” is also noteworthy and deserves a listen.