The First Time I Saw Joey Ramone: For His Birthday (May 19, 1951)

Text by Shari Edmands / FFanzeen, 2023

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Images from the Internet

I became acquainted with Shari while she worked at Max’s Kansas City, in the late 1970s. She is an amazing artist and cartoonist, and I published a few of her humorous Max’s Funnies in the print version of my physical FFanzeen in the early 1980s. This is a reprint of a Facebook blog on May 19, 2023 that she wrote about the first time she was Joey Ramone perform in a pre-Ramones band which shared a bill with SUICIDE, reprinted with her permission. – Robert Barry Francos, 2023

 

Sniper

The First Time I Saw Joey Ramone: For His Birthday (May 19, 1951)

The very first time I saw Joey Ramone perform live was as “Jeff Starship,” fronting the glam rock band (we called it “glitter” back then) SNIPER, at Coventry, on Queens Blvd in Sunnyside, Queens in 1973. I was 16 at the time and going to Art & Design High School in the city. SNIPER was opening for a duo that my Art & Design friends and I had heard much about, and we’d gone to check out: SUICIDE. We knew the singer was a painter/sculptor/installation artist that was getting a lot of attention, so we were intrigued.

When we got to the club, we found a place to sit on the floor about twelve feet from the stage. The crowd all found seats on the floor around us. The room filled up fast.

When the lights went down, and SNIPER got on stage, I was immediately spellbound by the lanky front man with bangs and sunglasses. First of all, he was taller than anybody I had ever seen in my entire life – let alone someone fronting a rock and roll band. Even without the 8-inch-high hot pink platform boots he was wearing, he would’ve been taller than anyone I’d ever seen. Super long skinny legs in hot pink shiny hip-hugger spandex pants, hot pink platform boots, and a dangling long black scarf. Long dark wavy hair with short bangs, big cheekbones, and round shades. And he had a stance that looked as if he was hardly moving, but even without moving much, his delivery actually seemed quite aggressive. He had a unique vocal style. Everything about him was unique.

I don’t recall the music very well to tell you the truth. And I don’t recall the other members of the band because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the singer. I just remember thinking “I will never forget this front man for the rest of my life.”

After their set, we were anxious to see the headliner. I’ll make this next part short because this story is really about Joey, but I can’t leave out my first impression of SUICIDE.

Suicide

It got dark, and all of us in the audience were sitting on the floor, waiting for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, looking at the door behind us from which the duo would be entering. Finally, a guy dressed all in black leather comes into the room, dragging a large thick chain behind him. Slowly approaching the stage, he wields the chain menacingly around the edge of audience, shouting unintelligible stuff, and being incredibly menacing. I can’t remember if he was on a mic yet, but he was loud. And I don’t remember if the keyboard player, Marty Rev, was on stage yet at that point. I only remember my first glimpse of the singer, Alan Vega, and he held us all in thrall. I was sitting there, and I remember thinking, “Okay this is scary. If I get up now and try to leave, I’d have to make my way out by stepping over all these people in the dark, and he’s gonna see me, and he’s gonna come running after me with that goddamn chain...” I had no choice but sit there and wait and see what happens next. So, I stayed. When they were finally on stage, the music was deafeningly loud and strange, and different from anything I’d ever heard before. And despite the terrifying theatrics of Alan’s entrance, the music was actually mesmerizing, and I became of a big fan of SUICIDE. Years later at Max’s, Alan and I would become great friends. He was a real sweetheart. A true innovator.

Back to my Joey story…

For three years, after seeing that show at Coventry, I would remember that strange looking singer I saw fronting that opening band, wondering what ever happened to him, if he was still performing.

By 1976, I was still living at home in Queens, and going to SVA (School of Visual Arts) in the city. One day I was at my boyfriend’s place. He had just bought a new album. It was by this band THE RAMONES; he said that I just had to hear because they were great. Totally different than anyone. Then he showed me the album cover. I couldn’t believe it. I was like, “Oh my God, that’s the GUY!!! That’s the GUY!!! That’s that front man I told you about! The lanky one with the bangs and the glasses! It couldn’t be anyone else! That’s the singer of SNIPER!” It was so weird that I was the only one in my crowd that ever saw him play in any band before THE RAMONES. Needless to say, that was a great first album, and the rest is history.

I saw them for the first time at Hurrah’s in August 1978 with my friend Jane. She and I were up front and center, standing right against the stage. And many years later I met his beautiful mom, Charlotte, a very sweet lady. And it was obvious that he inherited those big high cheekbones from her.

Anyway, that’s my Joey Ramone birthday story.

Memories of My Mom on Mother’s Day, 2023

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Images from the Francos collection

A Memory of My Mom on Mother’s Day, 2023

October 19, 2023, would have been my mom's 97th birthday, being born in 1927, but she never made it past June 25, 1981. I am more than a decade older now than she had ever been.

This piece is to celebrate Helen Rosen. The Rosen siblings are, in order of age from eldest to youngest, Miriam, Elsie, Eli and Helen. Elsie is the last remaining sister, approaching the century mark this coming October (living in Boca Raton, Florida, the last time I saw her was on her 90th birthday). I used to love going to her house in Queens before she retired South, and would spend a couple of weeks in Flushing, NY, every summer when my mother could not take my energy anymore. Elsie made the best noodle kugel in the world. But I digress…

Driving mom crazy at Camp HES, about 1965

Helen was born in Brooklyn in 1926, the first American generation of the maternal family, and her first language was Yiddish. She did not learn to speak English until she went to school. She grew up in the then-highly Jewish Williamsburg neighborhood, and was quickly nicknamed – for obvious reasons – Blondie. Eventually, she would go by Lynn. Her neighbors included Mel Brooks, and drummer Buddy Rich. In fact, her best friend then, Millie (aka Lefty), married Mel’s brother right after he returned from World War II from the Air Force where he was a bomber pilot.

Helen on the far left, Chickie next to her

In her teens, the family moved to the Bensonhurst area in one apartment, and then to another where I was conceived (I was born in the no-longer existing Brooklyn Doctor’s Hospital). But more on that later. She attended an all-girl’s high school, which she hated. My mom loved the boys, and the estrogen-fueled locale was not for her. She dropped out of high school, but not before picking up a smoking habit, with Kent being her brand of choice.

During the war, she first dated a guy whose last name was Schmuckman. She eventually told me, “I liked him too much, so I dropped him. I refused to be Mrs. Schmuckman.” She did get engaged to somebody after that, who never returned from the battlefield.

She was on a blind date with a friend, Chickie, in 1947. The story goes, the two men walked into the room, saw them sitting there, and one of the guys turned to the other and said, “The blonde is mine,” though he was being set up with Chickie. That was my father, Leo Francos.

Helen and Leo were married in 1948, and after a Honeymoon in Quebec City, moved into the Rosen apartment. My grandmother, Sadie, did not like my father (he was a handful…think a smaller Archie Bunker), and she and the rest of the family moved out. My immediate family stayed in that apartment, in one form or another, until 2009.

Honeymoon in Quebec

When I was thirteen, after my Bar Mitzvah, my mom did as she said she was going to do: she went to work (her first job since a munitions factory at the Brooklyn Pier during the War). She was a keypunch operator for Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, and would eventually become the supervisor.

Unlike my dad (until he retired), my mom was a social butterfly, enjoying the company of others, with a cackle of a laugh that ran through the Rosen family, that I adored, and eventually inherited. My parents were known for their wild parties, especially on Halloween (I have the old black and white photos to prove it), and heavy drinking was common. They had a rolling bar in the corner of the living room that stayed until my dad moved out, years after my mom passed on. The parties stopped when they found my older brother, then a toddler, under a table with an open bottle of Scotch in his hands. Even so, we often hosted dinners in the living room that were held on a foldable aluminum table that was kept under my parent’s bed.

Halloween party in our living room

To be fair, while my mom had her kitchen specialties, such as being creative with pineapples as crudité, she was not a very good cook, because she simply did not enjoy the process. Meats were overcooked and tough, and veggies were mushy from cans. My brother Richie said, years later, that he first discovered how good steak was in his early twenties when he went to a steakhouse (he is now an excellent cook).

One of the things I loved about Helen was that she was persistent, knew what she wanted and would settle for nothing less. For example, whenever my father bought a new car every four years or so, it came from Helen’s paycheck. She did not care what brand of car it was, letting my dad handle that end, but she insisted that it had to have a vinyl roof. I never figured out why, but it drove Leo crazy. Yet, he complied every time.

Another occurrence she put her foot down was at Passover when I was a young teen. Tradition decried that two (meat and dairy) separate set of dishes needed to be used during the 8-day holiday, so my mother would climb up and take the Passover dishes down from the upper kitchen cabinet and put the two sets of daily dishes in their place. Of course, living in an apartment in Brooklyn meant cockroaches were a natural part of our environment, thereby Helen would have to wash all the Passover dishes, and eight days later, when she switched them back, she would have to wash all the daily dishware. Finally, she had enough. “Leo,” she said sternly, “I’m not doing this anymore. Ganish [enough]!” This led to a multi-day fight that ended with my mother – all five-feet of her – standing her ground and saying, “Fine, you want it done, Leo, you do it!” And he did. That was the last year we switched dishes. 

At World Fair, Flushing, NY, 1965

Helen had some health issues over the years, such as a cigarette being flicked out of a car window in front of us and landing in my mom’s eye. Another time, she fell down the basement stairs and broke her coccyx (tailbone), giving her pain for the rest of her life. She was warned not to have any more kids, but she had me anyway (I am pretty sure I was unexpected).

After a heart attack in one occurrence, and then falling on a subway station platform (or perhaps she was pushed), she was informed that she had a brain aneurysm, and would need an operation that was dangerous to remove it. She went under the knife, and technically the operation was successful, but her brain swelled, and she died three days later at age 54, on June 21, 1981.

Day of my Bar Mitzvah, 1968

I still picture my mom sitting at the kitchen table in the evening after supper dishes were done, smoking a Kent and reading a Harlequin romance novel (she read about one per day, and was part of a collective that exchanged books at work). There is so much I would love to ask her about now, but as kids, we did not realize our parents would not live forever.

Other stories about her and photos can be found in earlier blogs, such as How Mel Brooks Set My Mother on Fire, For My Mom (on her birthday), and some photos of her with my father, Oh How They Danced. Feel free to add your own stories about Helen on the Blog's comments section below.

Documentary Review: Pieces of Us

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Images from the Internet

Pieces of Us
Directed by Cheryl Allison
Wow Films; EEC! Productions; Blue Door Films II; Freestyle Digital Media
92 minutes, 2021 /2023
www.piecesofusthefilm.com/
www.facebook.com/PiecesofUsDocumentary

Originally, I was going to say something about how this is a challenging time to be openly gay, what with the rise of Republican autocratic Christianity, and while that is definitely true, I cannot think of a time after, say, the Stonewall Riots of 1969, where is has been safe to be LGBTQetc. Sure, the arrests have gone down (for now) and there is more of a presence on media, but uncalled for and unnecessary violence towards the community continues, if not recently increasing due to hateful pundit right-wing talking points.

I have to admit, growing up in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, I had my own biases for most of my early life because I did not know better, but through education and working at a Baskin-Robbins a block away from the Stonewall, I quickly became a proud ally, and have marched in a number of Pride events. That’s me; but it is time to discuss this documentary.

While LGBTQetc. violence is a social problem, it most effects those who has had direct contact with this force. It is the post-violence that is the focus of this film, telling the story of five particular people. What is important to acknowledge is that though these subjects have had horrendous things done to them, it is not these actions that are the main focus, in a woe-in-me fashion, but is rather centered on coming through on the other side, with love and support around them. Despite the pain, this is a positive project.

JP Masterson aka Jipster

The film starts in earnest when we meet Jipster (JP Masterson), a white rapper who works as a middle school psychologist in Brooklyn; he was beaten in a New York subway station - West 4^th Street, of all places, the heart of the city’s gay community – for holding hands with Peter, his partner. Interestingly, we see the local television news story about the incident to launch the topic. Masterson is an engaging talker (as a rapper, one would hope). We get to meet his school’s principal, Dakota Keyes, and even some students, who fully support him.

Mykel's flag dance

Flag dance performance artist Mykel picked someone up and brought him home, where he was attacked and beaten. Back in the mid-1980s, I worked with a man named Glen who had a great sarcastic sense of humor, who was murdered by someone he brought home, so I can empathize with the event. While being afraid of reporting this incident to the NYPD, he reaches out to Beverly Tillery, who is the Executive Director of the New York Anti-Violence Project (AVP). She is also interviewed, giving a lifeline for those who may need her services. The person who counseled Mykel was transgender icon, Victoria Cruz.

Victoria Cruz, Mykel

Victoria was at the Stonewall riots in 1969 (as was musician Jayne County), becoming a crisis counselor at AVP, literally saving lives with her generosity of spirit (e.g., to paraphrase, “Don’t say ‘victim,’ say ‘survivor’”). Dressed in Native American paraphernalia, she meets with Mykel at a Brooklyn beach and they talk. I am not ashamed to say I was teary at one point.

Leia

Thus, the viewer is introduced to Leia. She is a single mother from Denver, whose 9-year-old son, Jamel, committed suicide after being bullied. In my opinion, this is being fostered by right-leaning hate speech that is flooding the media. To me, outlets like FoxNews is as much to blame as his classmates that bullied him until he could not take it anymore. This is the desired future of the Republican party, while they hypocritically scream “save the children.”

Leia was counseled by members of local and national organization PFLAG, here represented by Bianca and Brett, who explain their services. It is really smart filmmaking to not only show the problems that the people who were attacked went through, and their journeys back to their lives, but also to focus on the organizations that are there to support people in those situations. I respect that a lot. Another example, which is focused on here is the first Straight-Gay Alliance advocacy group, The Swish Ally Fund, founded by Sue Sena, who is also featured.

Prince Manvendra Singh-Gohil

The centerpiece of the film is Prince Manvendra Singh-Gohil, the “world’s first openly gay prince,” who is from India. Of course, he received numerous death threats and abandoned by his family, which led him and his husband, Duke DeAndre, to become global ambassadors to LGBTQetc. rights. We meet him in India at a compound set up as a safe place for the LGBTQetc. community in that country. As he visits New York, they touch on the importance of Stonewall, and we see the triangular Christopher Street Park (a place I have been many times), directly across from the Stonewall. Nearly everyone in the film comes together for the coda at the World Pride Parade there (if I may digress, if you have the chance to get to a New York Gay Pride Parade, do it!). It is truly a joyous moment.

The director of this documentary, Cheryl Allison, is an actor, producer, and a filmmaker focused in on sexual-based injustices (e.g., Shatter the Silence in 2019). She does a magnificent job here getting the point across. One aspect of this I particularly liked is that she takes each case study and shows them individually, rarely cross-cutting back and forth between them until further on, when you realize all of the subjects intertwine in their lives one way or another. And yet, they roll from story to story, organically growing as one introduces the other and the effects they had on their lives. This gives a better picture of “flow,” from hurt to healing for each individual, since everyone had their own pathway through PTSD into health.

This film is mostly New York-centric, a “Blue” city in a “Blue” state, where generally being LGBTQetc. is not only broadly recognized, but mostly accepted. And, yet, even in this melting pot, there is a unfounded hatred for the “Other,” be it due to various religious beliefs or just being afraid to come out of the closet (e.g., Republicans like American Conservative Union chairman Matt Schlapp, who is currently accused to sexually assaulting a male driver during Hershel Walker’s failed campaign). What I would like to see, going forward, is this film become a series, because once one gets below the Mason-Dixon, I am willing to assume that the violence level would increase exponentially, and it needs to be addressed to be able to heal as a country.

This is a powerful testament to love that arises like a phoenix from violence, giving voice to advocacy and positiveness, rather than negativity. It manages to be emotional, inspiring, and pointed, without being maudlin, sappy nor sensationalistic. It is a powerful piece of work. This should be shown in schools across the country, especially in Red states like Florida and Texas, where homophobia is rampant.

The documentary is available on Apple TV, iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, DirectTV, and Spectrum, among others.

IMDB listing HERE

Essay: A View of Modern Punk Rock

 Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Updated from Jersey Beat, 2005
Images from the Internet unless indicated

A View of Modern Punk Rock

This was first published in another form from my column in Jersey Beat fanzine (digital version) in 2005, which is no longer available. I have updated it and added new text.

Ramones (pic by Robert Barry Francos)

As a gross generalization, there are two ways to look at music: forward and backward. In the modern punk’s vision, bands and fans imagine themselves doing the former more than the latter. They often deride the First Wave pre-1975 (or so) music as hippie and too structured. Well, as someone pointed out to me, more time has passed since the Sex Pistols broke up (1978) than from the beginning of rock’n’roll (for argument’s sake, let us say 1955) until that point. We all use what we grew up with as a point of reference for what we see in the future. It is easy to look back and say anything pre-Ramones, or even pre-hardcore, is worthless. Okay, but if you were there when the Ramones started in ’74, you had rock’n’roll – not punk – to use as your starting point.

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

The Ramones used surf and pop as their foundation and gave that a twist, giving the British punks something newer to build upon (Malcolm McLaren learned it here from the likes of Richard Hell and disastrously managing the New York Dolls, and then returned to England to help create the Sex Pistols), and then the hardcore scene combined the First Wave New York and Second Wave London scenes to create the Third Wave. One of the first US hardcore fanzines by the late Paul Decolator was even named Third Wave. Each Wave brought something different into the mix.

As I discussed with a former fanzine editor, some of us who are old enough to remember pre-Ramones seem to find it somewhat easier to see other kinds of music as possibilities. Many of those early ‘70s punks came from the harder sounds of glam and metal (e.g., John Lydon singing along to Alice Cooper’s “Eighteen” as his audition for the Pistols), and I came from listening to folk, both traditional and modern. My punk sensibilities are a bit different than most I know, for that reason.

Dead Boys (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

I have often posited that folk music (e.g., Dylan, Ochs) of the ‘60s is the same in spirit of those of the punk era: protest music that just became more electrified, simplified, faster, and louder. But the themes are often the same (tell me “Positively 4th Street” is not punk). That is why so many members of punk groups started doing solo singer-songwriter styles as they aged and their bands dissipated.

Husker Du (photo by Robert  Barry Francos)

The up-and-coming punks have bands like the Ramones, the Pistols, Black Flag, and arguably Nirvana to use as their history, but we did not. There was no punk. There were bands like the Velvet Underground, the MC5, and the Stooges, but in a time when FM radio was basically album rock (such as Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Yes and CSNY), the odds of even finding out about VU and the like was slim. Unless you knew someone who was hip enough to turn you on to that stuff (in my case, it was Bernie Kugel, the first record collector I had met and a fine musician in his own right).

Richard Hell (photo by Robert  Barry Francos)

But mostly we who were rebelling had very few alternatives. I mean, if you wanted to be really radical, you could listen to Bowie (of whom I was never a fan), or the Count V (who did “Psychotic Reaction” in the mid-‘60s, before just about anyone knew about maniacal fuzz). Hell, even the Rolling Stones were looked on as scary. Once the ‘70s started, I almost stopped listening to broadcast music because there was such a dearth of anything out of the mainstream. I was fortunate enough to see Slade during the early ‘70s though, who showed me what was possible, but even they were arena rock, just as loud and hard as can be (the opening band, that I found tedious, was Aerosmith).

Johnny Thunders/Heartbreakers (photo by Robert Barry Francos)

To sum up: from the opening of CBGB as an alternative music venue in 1974 to now is nearly 50 years. If one was to flip that from the time before CBGB, which would be the Roaring Twenties, when Jazz and Swing were considered radical. When punk started, there was only a 20-year history of rock’n’roll to build on, as opposed to the 50-years of the present punk sound. You can poo-poo early rock’n’roll as being too standard (aka boring), but considering the shift of what the Ramones (and the like) listened to with what they ended up bringing, was far more radical than just about anything going on today. How much of what you are listening to now is fundamentally different than the bands of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s? Or even the Blink-182s of the ‘90s? You better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone…

Study: An Open Letter to C.P. Snow About “The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution”

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Images from the Internet

This is a paper I presented for my Master’s in Media Ecology at New York University, for the class Communications Revolution and Culture in America II, led by Neil Postman and assisted by Janet Sternberg. The footnotes will be in brackets where applicable. Information about CP Snow and his treatise can be found HERE, thanks to Wikipedia. 

An Open Letter to C.P. Snow About The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution

“Closing the gap between our cultures is necessary in the most abstract intellectual sense, as well as in the most practical.” – C.P. Snow, The Two Cultures

Mr. Snow:

Having read your 1959 Rede lecture, I would like to share some of my thoughts on your theory of the existence of two distinct cultures among scholars and examine how that theory relates to the present time [1990s].

I acknowledge the fact that your lecture presented a viewpoint regarding the intellectual community of England at the time. I will explore your ideas in relation to the contemporary American intelligentsia.

You state that you believe the “intellectual life of … Western society … is split into two polar groups” [C.P. Snow (1959). The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. New York: Cambridge University Press; p. 3], with one pole representing scientists (i.e., physical) and those in literary studies at the other [Ibid., p. 4]. You add that not only are these groups polarized, but “the separation between scientists and non-scientists is much less bridgeable among the young than even thirty years ago” [Ibid., p. 17]. Although that may have ben the situation in the United Kingdom up to the late 1950s, it appears to have become less true over the years in the United States.

You posit that the separation between science and literary studies, which arises in part through education, is less severe in the States [Ibid., pp. 16-17], and that the American system in “hoping to take the problems in hand within 10 years” [Ibid., p. 18]. This trend in American education in the late 1950s may explain the reduced polarity of these two intellectual changes within the American scientific and literary cultures, as I will discuss below.

Your belief that the “industrial society of electronics, atomic energy, automation … will change the world much more” [Ibid., p. 18], appears to have been prophetic. Due in part to an occurrence that seems to be a by-product of the atomic age, one outgrowth that I believe has helped fade the self-imposed line of segregation between science and literature is a genre of publication known as science fiction.

As the power, possibilities, and potential harm of the atomic age have become known over the decades following the end of World War II, the imagination of both scientists and non-scientists alike have been captured by the phenomenon of fission. Writers such as Arthur Clarke and Theodore Sturgeon turn to science for their source of inspiration and use technical scientific information and phraseology to help spread this technological information to both poles. Despite the definite “pop culture” of the genre, scientists were intrigued by the information and the forum in which it was presented, and the literary community learned the metaphors and processes of the scientific rationale. The scientist was also exposed to a form of writing that was fictional, yet presented a literary world with which they could make some association.

One of the leaders of the field of science fiction, for example, was Isaac Asimov. As you point out yourself [Ibid., p. 1], Asimov was trained in both the scientific and literary realms, capable of moving freely between the two. He wrote fiction and nonfiction, and analyses of both science (i.e., physical and social) and classic fiction (e.g., Shakespeare) – as well as writing original fiction. With credibility in both cultures, he could be a bridge that was needed to reach both shores.

As this fiction began to be accepted by both cultures, the influence became as a pebble in a pond, rippling outward and affecting society as a whole, thereby connecting the cultures on some levels.

In the early 1960s, the space program captured the imagination of both poles in America. This science fiction-made-real had both non-scientists and scientists alike observing the technological advancement, helping to further disseminate technological language to the lay scientist and literary audience.

Through the late 1960s, collegiate curriculum underwent a drastic change. Previously, educational systems in the United Kingdom had “set ourselves the task of producing a tiny elite … educated in one academic skill” [Ibid, p. 19]. This was also true for the United States. As riots over the Vietnam War and the narrow choice of subjects allowed in core programs exploded on campus after campus in America, the narrow views presented to the students were broken down, and the choice of topics available became more flexible. This situation helped open a door to educational elasticity.

With this opening up within some of the divisions of culture, each of these previously polarized groups began taking ventures into the other’s area of expertise.

Social scientists were among the first to venture out by publishing mostly nonfictional works that were read by both cultures, including Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock (1970) and Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business (1985). The physical scientists tended to write more fiction, such as physician Robin Cook’s Coma (1977) and scientist Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain (1969). All these excursions were being accepted and read by both sides of the intelligentsia.

It does appear that even at present, literary-based thinkers still use science fiction as an outlet for technological meanderings. A reason for this occurrence may be referenced to the comment in which you suggest that you believe writers must learn and develop their craft, whereas scientific learning is more innate, coming naturally [Ibid., pp. 10-11].

A further step along the path of joining the two intellectual cultures you posit in Western society has been the spread of the global-village mentality. As non-Western cultures influence the West, they bring other philosophies and ways of study with them, sometimes subtly changing the overall method a society uses to view itself and others, thus generating new ideologies. Innovative ideas have merged into the Western mindset, helping to further melt the barriers that were once a solid element in the West.

Therefore, I believe that in the United States, whereas there may be some separation between the cultures of the intellectual communities, the black and white borders you fear becoming further stratified have changed and continue to gray under the very Second Law of Thermodynamics, with which you referred [Ibid., p. 15].

C.P. Snow's full lecture in PDF form can be found HERE

Documentary Review: Falling Higher: The Story of Ampage

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2023
Images from the Internet

Falling Higher: The Story of Ampage

Directed by Colin J. Felger
Force Field Studios; Freestyle Digital Media
76 minutes, 2023
www.ForceFieldStuidos.com
www.facebook.com/FallingHigherFilm
Soundtrack link HERE

The Sunset Strip in California is known for a lot of things, from the stars that line the streets with entertainers’ names, druggies, hippies, and a film concerning a riot there (1967)  During the 1980s, what was most prominent for the Strip was glam hair metal bands, such as Mötley Crüe, W.A.S.P, the L.A. Guns, and Ampage.

During this time, I was listening to the First Wave of punk, British punk, hardcore, and was getting into the garage revival in New York. Hair bands relied on long guitar solos, which were anathema to me, but they were still omnipresent thanks to the likes of MTV, and local stations like V66, V68, etc. But of all the bands mentioned about the Sunset Strip above, I did not know of Ampage. This documentary mainly focuses on the lead singer and driving force of the band, Mark Mason (commonly known as Mase). I may not be the only one who is unaware, as there is not even a Wikipedia page for the band or Mason (this needs to be corrected). That is just one of the reasons why I feel that this film is important, as a testament to the band’s trajectory.

Like many bands, the core is the lead singer and songwriter, in this case Mase, and whomever is playing behind him may change, but it Is technically the same band. It is rare for find a band that has been playing (on and off) for forty years and keeping the same members (the only one I can think of off the top of my head is ? and the Mysterians).

Over the years, the whole sound of the band has been morphing as well, starting off as hair metal (without the screeching), and eventually turning into a rock band over the course of their nine albums. The history of the band, and especially Mase, ranges from drug and alcohol-fuel debauchery, to married life on a ranch. I also found it fascinating that Mase is a major triathlon athlete and has competed nationally in his middle age.

The film is narrated by actor Jake Busey (recently in 2019’s Ghost in the Graveyard), as Mase was friends with his dad, actor Gary, who sang on one of their records. Also shown in archival footage, is Jeff Conaway (Grease; “Taxi”; d. 2011), who went on tour with the band as a co-singer.

Among those also interviewed, we are presented with Bill Stokem (bassist since 2016), Mark Pearce (guitarist since 2016), Jason Fish (drummer since 2017), Happenin’ Harry (1988 road manager), Mark London (drummer, 1986-88), Punky Peru (drummer in 1981), Loren Molinare (guitarist 1997, and in the punk band the Dogs), Frank Scimeca (bassist for 5 years), Billy Vaughn (bassist 1986-88), Rick Allen (Def Leopard drummer in archival footage), Cameron Cutler (president, Higher Source Records), and family members. One person absent is the original drummer, Mike Kroeger, who passed away from Leukemia in 2016, for whom there is a touching section dedicated to him in the film.

While I still do not think I would go out and buy their music, I find their later years’ material more appealing. There are lots of archival clips of them throughout the entire career of the band. Wisely, they had someone videotape (obviously VHS of some form by the visual noise factor), giving a more complete picture of what it was like to record and tour with the band, and I enjoyed watching them being interviewed on several radio shows (visual, not just the sound).

The clips of them playing music on the stage, or just on the soundtrack, is often short, making it a little harder to get a greater picture of their sound (obviously, this was dedicated to their fans who could sing along with them, word for word, as is stated in the documentary), but with that much of a catalog, if they played whole songs, this would be hours long. Luckily, if you are interested, there is a link to buy the soundtrack above.

I must say, as they are presented in the video, Mase and the various members of the band seem to get along (though some had left to form other groups), and they come across as amenable. No trash talking, though Mase has a self-depreciation moment.

Many band documentaries have a similar pattern, including this one, of the group starting out, getting big, becoming small, being a cult idol, and striving to achieve fame again into middle age. And yet, each band’s story is different, as well.

One thing I noticed, that has nothin’ to do with nothin’, is the tee-shirts worn. Two people wear Soundgarden and Misfits tees, for example, where Mase seems to wear the band’s Ampage shirt frequently.

The story of the rise and fall to/from fame, and the desire to get it back reminded me of the also single-named band from Canada, Anvil, who similarly had a documentary made of their story. 

This release will be available to rent and own via global digital HD Internet and satellite platforms on January 24, 2023, through Freestyle Digital Media.

RBF’s Eclectic Excitement Playlist: NSFW Edition – December 2022

RBF’s Eclectic Excitement Playlist: NSFW Edition – December 2022

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

This edition of the playlist are songs that really should not be played in front of general co-workers, little ones, or most relatives due to content and language. I am interested in listening to the obscure music arena than prattling on about it, despite my brief comments These will be of a multitude of genres, from punk to folk, to just out there.

The songs are listed alphabetical by first letter of the artist or group (with a single exception here), and not listed in a “ratings” order. Art is subjective, so I hope you like these as much as I enjoy them.

Note: There is no advertising on this page, so I will not be making anything off the work of others.

California Speedbag
“Shitlist”
Smog Veil Records
For some reason, I just fell in love with this I kilt my wife song, rough as it is. It came off an anthology album from Cleveland called Pie & Ears, Vol 1. I know nothing about the band. While many of the songs on this list are funny, this one is dead serious, and that’s part of what I like about it.

The Clap
“Disco Jesus”
Kleen Kut Records
As both an atheist and a person who abhors disco, I love this single. It is both joyous and mocking at the same time. How can you not love lyrics like, “You oughta see him do The Hustle / Upon that funky cross.” This won’t make me a believer in either disco or Jesus, but I’ll sing along: “Dance, dance, disco Jesus!”

Eddy Gorodetsky and Tom Couch
“Wop Muzik”
415 Records
“Pop Muzik” by M is a gawdawful song, but was a massive hit at the time, This punkish spoof actually comes quite close to the original, but is hilarious. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a deeply Italian neighborhood? The flip side, “Reasons to be Hungry,” a parody of Ian Dury’s “Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3,” is also worth a listen.

Garfunkel and Oats
“The Loophole”
Garfunkel and Oats
This duo is made up of actors/musicians/comedians Kate Micucci and Riki Lindhome. Their songs can be political or social criticisms, or about their own personal experiences with sex. What is noticeable right off the bat is that their tunes are wordy, and often sung fast by both of them at the same time. This particular song is both funny and poignant, especially in this current religiously-charged social and political moment in history.

Jimi LaLumia and the Psychotic Frogs
 “Eleanor Rigby”
Death Records
Yes, this was a real group who would occasionally play at Max’s Kansas City. The punk take-off of the Beatles ditty takes a dark song and makes it even darker. A thing of beauty, Jimi’s deep and raspy voice fits the new lyrics, as did John Lennon’s overproduced vocals on the original. The flip side of this single is a great cover of Wayne/Jayne County’s “Fucked by the Devil.”

Rachel Bloom
“Fuck Me Ray Bradbury”
Rachel Does Stuff
Rachel Bloom, who has a perfect voice for this kind of material, rose to fame and won an Emmy for the television series, ”My Crazy Ex Girlfriend.” But this was the one that set off her career, full of bold ideas and no gatekeeping. She sort of carried on where Sarah Silverman left off.

Sic F*cks
“Chop Up Your Mother”
Sozyamuda Records
This is fun punk rock, with Russell Wolinsky fronting, and the F*ckettes behind him, who are none other than scene darlings and sisters Tish and Snooky Bellomo, who run the Manic Panic hair products empire. I have seen the band a number of times, and you can too in digital form by watching the slasher flick Alone in the Dark, from 1982, where the group performs this song and “Rock or Die.”

The Swinging Erudites
“Walk With an Erection”
Dimensional Records
At the lead of this group that spoofs the Bangles “Walk Like an Egyptian” is Johnny Angel Wendell, a Boston rocker who also headed the bands Thrills and the Blackjacks. I saw Thrills play CBGB (and drove him and late lead singer Barb Kitson to where they were staying afterwards), and Wendell performing a solo “punk Sinatra” shtick that was hilarious at The Rat in Boston. A man of many talents. Also check out the Erudites’ “Living on My Hair,” an excellent take-off of Bon Jovi.

Wayne County and the Electric Chairs
“Fuck Off”
Safari Records
Infamously now Jayne County, this was a relatively big hit for her. Most of her music is blues rock based with a total punk attitude, with other songs including “Man Enough to Be a Woman” and “You Make Me Cream in My Jeans.” Her contribution to the first wave of punk down at Max’s Kansas City has yet to be reckoned with by many. Perhaps a street sign on Park Avenue similar to the Ramones outside CBGB?

Mike Brown and the Sneakies
“Fuck You”
M Records
This is going to have to remain as an Honorable Mention because I could not find a video for it. It is a break-up song that is both full of angst and the release from it. If you can find it on another non-video platform, it’s worth the search.

Review: Wendy O. Williams: Live and Fucking Loud in London!

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

Wendy O. Williams: Live and Fucking Loud in London!
Directed by Rod Swenson
Trilion Pictures; Sledgehammer Entertainment; MVD Entertainment Group
55 minutes, 1985 / 2022
www.mvdvisual.com

Back in the late 1970s, I saw this relatively new band a couple of times at CBGB, led by Wendy O. Williams (a.k.a. W.O.W.) called the Plasmatics. They were wild, including sawing a guitar in half with a chainsaw while still plugged in (noise reminiscent of Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music).

Back then, Williams (d. 1998) was known for a lack of clothing that might make Iggy blush, stage presence, and a voice so gravelly you could use it to cover a country road. The Plasmatics were getting quite a name for themselves, and not just from blowing up a car during a show on a Manhattan pier. They broke up in 1983 (they reformed for a moment from 1987 to 1988).

Plasmatics at CBGB (pic by Robert Barry Francos)

After the first demise of the Plasmatics, Williams went on her own journey, including acting (e.g., 1986’s Reform School Girls), and forming a new band – guitar: Michael Ray (who also worked with the Plasmatics); bass: Greg Smith; drums: T.C. Tolliver, including all doing backing vocal duties as well – and toured extensively.

The part of the tour that is represented on this DVD was shot during October 1985, at the Camden Palace in London. Hot off a Grammy nominated album (produced by Gene Simmons of KISS), she moved out of the punk world and into metal, including speed metal on Kommander of Kaos, the album she was promoting on this journey through Europe. This particular show was originally broadcast overseas on Sky TV (I believe it was titled Bump and Grind), and fell into obscurity for years.

At this stage of her career – some might call this her “pinnacle” – she was in top form, both musically and working the stage. Geologist and Plasmatics’ guitarist Richie Stotts may have been gone, but the power trio backing her up were dedicated and in fine form keeping up with her Tasmanian Devil stage antics. To be honest, through the growl in her voice and the speed of the songs, I cannot tell most of the lyrics, but I do not care, it is the performance that matters.

The video was directed by Rod Swanson, which should be no surprise as he managed her career from the beginning, meeting when she was still doing porn (e.g., Debbie Does Hollywood) and live sex shows (fortunately, she got outta da biz before AIDS hit hard). Rather than criticize her, I think this was an important step for her getting used to being mostly unclad on stage when singing. As she once said, “It was just like working in a doughnut shop, except you didn't wear a paper hat”.

Anyway, back to the DVD, the show begins with the blistering guitarwork of bare-chested Ray, and of course it only builds once Williams hits the stage with “Gone Wild.” But it is the second song, “Pedal to the Metal,” where her inner Ramones comes in (right down to DeeDee’s count-off at one point), Williams just blisters. By the third song, she is in total sweat from dancing around on the stage. Considering she was in her late 30s by this point, she goes full tilt out.

The song “You’ll Succeed” sounds more like “You’ll Suck Seed,” reminding me of Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers’ “Born to Lose”/”Born Too Loose” double entendre. “Party Tonight” is a killer tune as well.

“Jammin’” is just what it says: Williams goes backstage to wipe off and remove more clothes, and the band jams for longer than I was interested. As talented as this trio is, and they truly are, like most jamming, it is a “show” with little melody but lots of note fingering. This is the main reason I like the simplicity of the Ramones rather than hair bands.

By the time she gets to “Jailbait,” she is joined by the Lemmy (d. 2016) and Wurzel (d. 2011) from Motörhead for just this song (and if you are in NYC, be sure to check out the Motörhead cover band, Motörbrained).

Amusingly, the camera keeps going back to a guy in the front of the audience who has a huge green mohawk and heavily studded leather jacket who seems to watch the show stoically (though occasionally doing a head bop), not even joining in for the chant-along of “Bump and Grind.” Also, during this song, Williams goes back to form and sledgehammers a television. Like comedian Gallagher (d. 2022) and his watermelon, well, you just have to come to expect that. But Ray playing while sitting on Williams’ shoulders is a nice touch.

Pyrotechnics are used intermittently throughout the show, though not to KISS level, but more appropriate to the venue. It’s all fun, and it smokes up the stage for “Fuck That Booty,” which I thought was the weakest song of the show, though Ray gets to show off once again.

During the last song, “Fuck’n’Roll,” a killer number, I thought about the difference between Plasmatics Williams and this show: for this, she uses way less props, even with the TV smashing. I remember her holding up signs. And while she is still sensual as hell, she no longer rubs her crotch often nor goes topless with electrical tape Xs over her nipples. But it is good to see her chainsaw a guitar again, as she finishes off the show. I always wondered what guitar mavens like Binky Phillips and Tom Guerra thought about that practice. One other difference is that Wendy seems even more comfortable and confident as a singer on stage.

The DVD’s visuals and sound are crisp and clear, most likely shot on the superior European PAL technology. This is a hard rockiin’ set with some punk elements, but Ray’s guitar makes it solid hair metal with a hard edge. Miss ya, Wendy O.

Set List:
Gone Wild
Pedal to the Metal
You’ll Succeed
No Class
Party (Tonight)
Jammin’
Hoy Hey (Live to Rock)
Jailbait
Ain’t None of Your Business
Bump and Grind
Fuck That Booty
Fuck’n’Roll