THE GIZMOS: Quims, Queens, Teens and Screens

Interview text © 1977 by Lincoln D. Kirk;
RBF intro © 2012 by Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

The following article about the Gizmos was originally published in Big Star magazine, issue #1, dated May 1977. It was conducted by music historian Lincoln D. Kirk (who wrote for FFanzeen as well), and reprinted here with the writer and publisher’s kind permission. Text added by me in 2012 is in [brackets].

In their day, the multi-peopled Gizmos were as revolutionary as many of their idols, such as the MC5, KISS, and possibly the Stooges. Oh, they may not have had the chops of those bands, but that is part of what made them the enfant terrible of the Midwest in general, Bloomington, IN specifically.

This article is definitely a piece of its time, and certainly not current PC. The Gizmos were not the only group to write salacious songs, and are in a noble group such as the Angry Samoans, or even W/Jayne County, but the ‘Mos were among the first in the indie recording world of the mid-‘70s. And that they came from the middle of the Bible belt makes it all the more intriguing. Looking back, a lot of this material is cringe-worthy, with comments that would now be considered misogynist, racist, homophobic, and even anti-Semitic, but much of it was done in the ignorance of youth (note that this was years before punks were wearing swastikas) and a twisted sense of humor. But peeking at this material through 2012 social eyes is like reading Kate’s speech at the end of The Taming of the Shrew by way of that same lens. Even Victor Hugo and Charlotte Brontë came out with some doozie questionable lines by today’s standards, and the Dr. Doolittle books and Bugs Bunny cartoons were full of racist material. No, I’m not making excuses, but I also know that some ex-members of the Gizmos look back and wince at some of these lyrics as well.

The entire Gizmos catalog is currently available from gulcher.gemm.com. – RBF, 2012

Introduction: Gizmos Invade Dunkirk

April 6, 1976, was a pretty hectic day all around. So a bit of chamber music seemed like a good way to inject some sanity into my tired body and soul. Melos Trio, Diers Recital Hall, Fredonia State – excellent recitals, especially the Beethoven. Nonetheless, arrival home at 10:30 PM (after a half-hearted and unsuccessful attempt at hustling my buddy’s fiancée – not that I was in any condition to do much with her anyway; the day was that hectic) found me ready to drop in my tracks.

Walk in the door, ready to force myself upstairs to my room, when my mother stops me in the hallway. “There’s a couple of fellows here to see you.” So I drag myself into the living room, spot two dandies I’d never laid eyes on before, and figure they must be long-lost cousins or something. The grinning, red-headed Prince Valiant who looked like an oversized John Denver (his partner looked too rock-star cool to pin down so specifically) twangs out in his thickly accented, molasses-in-January Alabama drawl, “Ah’m Eddie Flaw’rs and this here’s Kin Hah-lun.” Or maybe it was Ken Highland who introduced Eddie Flowers. Remember, I was so knocked out from sheer fatigue (and so, it turns out, was Eddie) that my memory’s a bit hazy. Put it this way – from Beethoven to Highland is a greater culture shock than any mere mortal can be expected to absorb!

It turns out that Eddie and Ken had been entertaining my mother and grandparents for about a half-hour before I stumbled home. Well, actually, Ken had done the entertaining; a High-Energy Highland is as garrulous as Eddie (leading contender for the 1976 Calvin Coolidge Memorial Trophy) is silent; Eddie communicates by grinning. I ask you: how many of you have had real live rock stars in your very own home? Of course, Eddie and Ken weren’t rock stars yet (are they now?). They were both merely two long-haired civilians without a record on the market, like any two people reading this.

The next three hours or so are exceedingly difficult to sort out in my brain. I probably should have scribbled down notes knowing that someday I’d take up Ken’s suggestion to commit their visit to paper, but my yawning cerebral cells and shot nerves would have forbidden my mind and hand to coordinate properly. So all that’s left is impressions; some very bizarre ones, but impressions nonetheless.

The impression that’s relevant here (as if anything I’ve said so far is relevant) concerns a cassette Eddie and Ken tried to get me to listen to. The Gizmos, Ken said. Gizmos? The name didn’t mean a thing, but I figured it was some hot new Columbia band like Aerosmith / Dictators / BOC / whatever. In any case, here we are at Eddie’s car parked up a few houses from mine, ransacking the back seat for a huge crate of LPs I was about to get my pick of, when the chilly Lincoln Avenue midnight (and, like most Dunkirk neighborhoods on a spring weekend Lincoln Ave. is almost always mausoleum quiet) was suddenly shattered by the hard smash of wild, mental-jumping guitars and frantic singing, at an obnoxiously loud volume. “Hey, you guys, better turn that thing down. This is a respectable neighborhood!” Thank goodness I wasn’t paying attention to the lyrics or I’d have had a coronary right there in the street! [Dunkirk is a small town in western New York State, southwest of Buffalo and near the shore of Lake Erie. – RBF, 2012]

To be honest, I don’t remember actually listening to that tape, even after it was turned down and even with Ken prodding me for an opinion. I suppose I mumbled something really critic-heavy like, “That seems pretty good” or maybe, “It’s not bad.” I don’t really know now (if I knew then!). When I think of the journalistic coup I blew, I’m virtually heartbroken (slight hyperbole). Here I was, probably the first bigshot-reviewer-type (discounting those directly involved with the project) to hear the Gizmos, and I was too dragged-out and dog-tired to know the difference!

4 x 8: The Rolling Gizmos

And who, you may ask (that is, if you’ve been hibernating or have spent the last six months in a monastery) are the Gizmos? I grew up thinking a “gizmo” was somewhere between a “gadget” and a “whatchamacallit”; a mechanical contrivance the name and / or specific use of which was unknown to the person using or perusing the object. According to Gulcher Records’ president, Bob “Mr. Bear” Richert, “’gizmos’ = stooge / squirrel / Yankee Doodle Dandy / loner / outcast / gimp / etc.” But that definition is so broad it can be applied to nearly every man, woman and child in North American (except maybe Karl Malden). These Gizmos are a savage-young, brutish, doltish, zippy little octet with a four-song 33-1/3 EP (at one time it would has been classified a 7” LP, the term EP being reserved for extended-play 45s; however, producer Bear blanches when the term LP is used in connection with his product, as he’s afraid prospective purchasers will expect a 12” model, which it ain’t) that says it all (a useful advertising slogan that doesn’t mean a thing, but impresses the feeble-minded).

Any musical legitimacy the Gizmos may possess grew out of a band from the northern Indiana community of Highland (no relation to Ken Highland; indeed, it’s one of the few municipalities in the U.S. of A. where Ken has not resided) called Cerberus. At the time of the EP’s recording (March ’76), Cerberus consisted of Rich Coffee (no connection with Coffee-Rich), now 19, on guitar and vocals; Rick Czajka, 17, on guitar; Dave Sulak, 20, on bass; and Jim DeVries, also 20, on drums. Aside from DeVries, who played with polka bands (great training for keeping a steady beat, mixing accents and the like) in the Hammond, Indiana, area, none of the Cerberi had any real musical experience before mutating into the Gizmos.

This mutation came about in a manner perhaps unique even in the annals of rock’n’roll history. Ken Highland, 20, famed fanzine editor (Rock On! and Trash) and writer (Gulcher, and its earlier incarnations Beyond Our Control and the WIUS Tip Sheet) struck up a correspondence with Rich Coffee’s girlfriend in Highland, IN, as a result of her reading Trash. About a year later, Ken (already a fledgling rock’n’roll guitarist and songwriter) pulled up stakes again, moving from Brockport, New York, to Bloomington, home of Bob Richert’s Gulcher publishing / recording empire, the scourge of Southern Indiana. In late ’75, Ken took a sabbatical northward to Highland to meet his correspondent and, while there, jammed with Cerberus (this was some time before DeVries joined the band). In March of ’76, when producer Richert decided it was time to unleash Ken Highland’s concepts on vinyl, Cerberus was the natural choice to become the instrumental portion of the Gizmos.

Three more Gizmos were added as lead and backing vocalists. The legendary Eddie / Eddy / Edde Stenson (take your pick) Flowers, 19, the personification of the rock fanzine sprit in print (although a surprisingly slow-moving, slow-drawling good-ole boy in the flesh) journeyed north from Jackson, Alabama, to Bloomington (which he calls the “hippy-homo haven of the Midwest”). Two other Gizmos were recruited from the Indiana University student body (IU is, of course, located in Bloomington; you didn’t think all the hippies and “homos” congregated there by accident, did you?): Ted Niemiec, 19, is the black lipstick, black nail polish, white-faced “just a regular dude” of the band and co-author of the Gizmos’ greatest hit, “Muff Divin’,” with Davey Medlock, who is, at 21, the senior Gizmo and a college DJ. The Gizmos’ producer and ninth star, Bob Richert, is in his late 20s, comes from Attica, NY, and hopes to see his publication become “the Creem of the ‘80s.” So much for vaunted ambitions.

What do they sound like? Remember the Sonics’ “Psycho”? Divorce it from its “Louie Louie” spasto-rhythm blend in unequal amounts of early Stones, Velvets, Shadows of Knight, Stooges, Barbarians, Chuck Berry, Yardbirds, and hot-flash boogie rave-ups, and then and only then will you catch a glimpse of what all the Top Critics are shouting about. (Case in point: the Gizmos even managed to get a certain Richard Meltzer [who would later form the Angry Samoans] to write the EP’s liner notes.) If you dig wild, two-note guitar solos (remember, it’s not the quantity of notes that counts, it’s the quality, and Highland picks high-quality notes!), chaotic group-shout vocals (and that, too, is a compliment; who needs punk vocals that sound prissy?), over not-quite-organized yet steamrollin’ accompaniment (neither inept nor particularly ept, either), then… [at this point, Kirk directs the reader to Gulcher’s then-address; the new e-address is above in my introduction].

”Kick Out the Giz-jams” – E. Flowers

Hmmm, I haven’t even mentioned the Gizmos’ pornographic lyrics yet – that’s what’s attracting so much of the attention the band has been getting. The aforementioned “Muff Divin’” – aside from its obvious and fully intended offensiveness to women (ardent feminists should sit this one out; they’ve got enough to worry about without these eight nerds lousing up their lives even further) – is the most inventive, most humorous, most perverted, and most educational (Paul Simon might have called it “50 Ways to Lick Her Pussy”) porn-rocker ever written. Really clever stuff, “Muff Divin’” is an instruction guide to the kinkier aspects of cunnilingus, involving the use of such common household items as peanut butter, ice cubes (“muff cocktail on the rocks”), Alka-Seltzer, shower nozzles, and the like. None of this fruit-scented love-cream aphrodisiac nonsense; this song is as raunch-filled lyrically as it is musically. Written by Highland, Niemiec (who sings lead), and Cliff Wolff (a friend of Niemiec’s who lives in Willkie South, the IU dorm which figures prominently in the lyrics), “Muff Divin’” alone is worth the $2.50. Indeed, it was “Muff Divin’” which delayed the EP’s release, as the original pressing plant (a religious-oriented outfit) refused to handle it after sitting on the masters for a couple of months.

The other three songs are less hardcore pornish, but far removed from the WYSI playlist, nonetheless. “That’s Cool (I Respect You More),” a Stones-type which is the only less-than-up-tempo-track, was written and sung by Highland from personal experience, as he tries to seduce a teen lovely who refuses to “go all the way” (now, if Ken were Eric Carmen…). “Mean Screen” (“Dick Clark oughta be my poppa”), written by Ken and Eddie (who sings it) from an original poem by fanzine writer Scott Duhamel, concerns masturbation while watching American Bandstand. “Chicken Queen,” the grand finale, is an “inside joke” of sorts. How many bands do you know with the gall to insult and embarrass their own producer on their first recording?: “Well, five-to-eight of hairy bear / Some don’t know and the rest don’t care / Boys and girls, inbetween / You’re all fine to the Chicken Queen.” It so happens that Bear is a friend of mine, and he never made any improper advances my way, so I won’t get involved with the question of the song’s accuracy (even thought the facts are well-known!). Written by Eddie (with embellishments by Ken and Dave Sulak) and sung by Ken, “Chicken Queen” includes some honest-to-goodness musicianship in Rick Czajka’s clean, neo-Santana guitar on the fade (which conjures up Chuck Berry’s “Little Queenie” and “Johnny B. Goode”: “Go, Queenie, go-go-go”), following an ingenious rap featuring Rich as the Queen and Ted as the Chicken, in a parody of the Doors’ “The End” (“The bear awoke before dawn… / He walked on down to the chicken coop and he said, ‘Chicken?’ / ‘Yes, Queen?’ / ‘Chicken?’ / ‘Yes, Queen?’ / ‘I want to…’,” etc.). The EP’s engineer, Richard Fish, appended a subtitle, “The (Ass) End,” to the track; I could say that this subtitle was pregnant with meaning, but reproduction of the species has nothing to do with it!

The Gizmos were originally intended as a one-shot project, existing on and around March 20, 1976 (the date of recording). But stardom, even on the fanzine level, brings its pressures – public demand for an encore being one of them. So the Gizmos reunited for a second round of rock’n’roll lunacy. In April, they reformed for a double-EP / triple- / album (which format it will eventually assume has yet to be decided; albums are less cumbersome, Bear) and their first live appearances. There’s at least one change as Rick Czajka has quit Cerberus (which has since changed its name to Loner) to become a folkie. When not Gizmoing, Ken Highland admitted he is in the United States Marine Corps (a family tradition), Stenson Flowers is in Alabama, Messrs. Coffee and Sulak are in Chicago, and Jim DeVries was busted on a dope charge, while Ted Niemiec and Davey Medlock remain in Bloomington.

Upcoming on future Gizmos vinyl you should hear such instant classics as “Gimme Back My Foreskin,” “Human Garbage Disposal,” “Amerika First,” and “Pumpin’ to Playboy” (which I have a tape of; believe me, it’s a killer, built around an irresistible Iberian guitar riff).

Gulcher Records may also issue an album by Loner without Ken, Eddie, Ted and Davey; and possibly one by Bob Richert’s answers to the Runaways and the Quick, a group of 13-to-15-year-olds called the Chickens (I’m not so sure I believe that one, myself…).

Now, would you like to know about MX-80 Sound?

[I saw a later version of the Gizmos play at Max’s Kansas City in the ‘70s, which was released as a live EP titled, Never Mind the Sex Pistols, Here are the Gizmos. It was a wild and hairy show.]

Here is some “Where are they now” info:
Rich Coffee: Was in the bands Thee Fourgiven, the Unclaimed, and the Tommyknockers.
Eddie Flowers: Now in the experimental, lo-fi, noise rock band Crawlspace; CDs available from Gulcher.
Ken Highland: A long and varied musical career, mostly in the Boston Area, including quite a large number of bands that he has fronted, such as the Hopelessly Obscure and Kenne Highland and his Vatican Sex Kittens. Still touring after all these years. Nice guy, too.

Club Flyers and Invites from 1970s and 1980s: Part 5

Text (c) Robert Barry Francos, 2012
Images are owned by the artists
Also, images can be enlarged by clicking on them.

As stated in an earlier blog, throughout the years I have collected flyers, especially from the 1970s and '80s. Many were sent to me directly by the bands while I was publishing FFanzeen. Below are some scans I made from my personal collection, in no particular order. I did see many of them, but not all, and I will comment on them from time to time. Note that I do not financially profit off of publishing them, but only do so to honor the work that was involved, and for archival purposes.

While it’s questionable whether Marianne Faithfull’s music of this period is punk, her life sure was hardscrabble at the time of this show. As her amazing book (Faithfull: An Autobiography) explained, a later life of substance dependence and the jealousy of others had a negative effect on her career. Yet, with the emergence of her album Broken English, she quickly captured the New York punk audience… well, the First Wave, anyway. I doubt British punk, hardcore, or neo-garage fans cared one way or another, though the latter may have some converts due to Faithfull’s association with the Stones.

Post-Ramones, Joey (RIP) became a scene maker, especially through his yearly birthday bashes. As you can see, this one had an amazing line-up. After Joey’s passing, his brother Mickey Leigh continued the momentum and has maintained the yearly series. It’s an amazing show, year after year, as it always has been.

Robert Gordon has had multiple lives in the business. Starting out as the voice of the fashionista punk band Tuff Darts (his vocals on “Slash” and “All For the Love of Rock’n’Roll” on the Live at CBGB’s LP are the highlights of an otherwise mediocre release). Quitting the band just as they were about to be signed, he denied his past and went the rockabilly route, in my opinion besting out some of the better known bands, such as the overrated Stray Cats. His solo albums and those with the late Link Wray are classic. They helped keep the fire alive and inspiring others. Once, he was married to Manic Panic’s Snooky Bellomo. Meanwhile, he is still touring.

When this later version of the Hoosier seminal bar rock band the Gizmos played at Max’s Kansas City, there were very few in the audience on the Tuesday night. Well, as I remember it, it was a bloated drunk woman who tried to dance with the band onstage, a guy passed out at the bar, their manager, and me (not counting staff). It was actually a very fun show, and was recorded and pressed to an EP titled Never Mind the Sex Pistols, Here’s the Gizmos (still available on Gulcher Records in CD form with nearly an hour of extras). When you hear someone clapping on the 7-incher, c’est moi.

If I remember correctly, I was invited to this show by Doll House (hence the crossed off names). Unfortunately, I never did get to see the show, nor Doll House. And the only time I’ve seen Cheetah Chrome other than numerous Dead Boys shows and one with the Skels, was playing with Spacely (RIP) and Jerry Nolan (RIP) at the Johnny Thunders Memorial show during the early 1990s.

I did not see the Mad Orphans play, though I met the two leads (then a couple), Cynthia Sley and Ivan Julian, at a taping of Videowave, a cable access television show. Previously, both had been in seminal New York bands: Cynthia with the Bush Tetras and Ivan with Richard Hell’s Void Oids.

SST was one of the leaders in SoCal hardcore, and I’m grateful to have been on their mailing list to get all those great groundbreaking albums at the time. Because of that, when all these bands and artists came to New York, I was well aware of who they were, and their possibilities. I’m not sure why I didn’t attend these shows (probably was away visiting my then-girlfriend), but it was a loss.

With tongue firmly in cheek, the Undead rose from the body of the Misfits, with Bobby Steele (now an ultra-conservative Tea Party follower, fer chrizzake) at its head. No, I didn’t see the Undead, but Bobby’s then-girlfriend, Lori Wedding, posed for the front cover of FFanzeen mag wearing one of our tee-shirts.

Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, my native turf, was nuts about either disco or the Rat Pack, depending on the age of the listener. For me, it was the Ramones, of course, but I never did fit in there. Anyway, somewhere in the area, usually at the Walker Theater on 18th Avenue and 69th Street, or at the Rex Manor in neighboring Bay Ridge, there were often shows catered to the audience of my parent’s generation. Sometimes it would be Jerry Vale or Pat Cooper, and for this particular show, a Rat Pack tribute. Okay, this isn’t a punk flyer, but it’s odd enough, don’t you think? Oh, if I have it correctly, Liza’s impersonator is a drag queen (I wonder if the audience was aware of that?).

Ah, the Elgin. You hadda be there (and, unfortunately, I was). This is a part of New York’s punk history that is almost never discussed, for some reason (not even mentioned on the Elgin’s Wikipedia page). Barbara MacKay, of the gawdawful band the Hot Nuts, tried to make the revival film showcase Elgin Theater into a punk rock palace in 1977. Posting flyers around town lying that Blondie was going to play at the opening (probably hoping they would come anyway), she attracted a modest crowd (including me) to the multi-band opening night. It was awful. The sound was terrible, the bands ranged from hippie to prog, hard rock to pop (including Sweet Star, John Collins, the boring Harry Toledo, Brute Force [not the British “King of Fuh” singer], Kongress, Grand Slam, and White Gold). Heck, there was even some flame swallowing. There was no consistency, and I’m sure the bands felt as ripped off as the audience. The Elgin was gone within the month, and the Chelsea digs is now a dance repertory space.

KENNE HIGHLAND: Rock’n’Roll Superstar?

Original text by Tom Bingham, 1980
New introduction by Robert Barry Francos, 2010
© 2010 FFanzeen
Live photos © Robert Barry Francos (to come); album Images from the Internet

The word “cult artist” was created for people like “Krazee” Kenne Highland. He’s been in – or created – more groups than I can remember, such as the seminal Gizmos, the Kenne Highland Klan, the Afrika Korps (and its follow-up, the Korps), the Hopelessly Obscure, Kenne Highland and His Vatican Sex Kittens, Johnny and the Jumper Cables, the Exploding Pidgins, and Thee Psych-O-Daisies. I had the opportunity to hang out with Kenne a number of times during the early ‘80s up in Boston, and had a blast. He helped me understand what it means to thrive on I-IV-V.

These days, he’s sobered up, found religion of some sorts, and goes by Kenneth. But he has not lost his coolness, for sure, and he is back to performing and hopefully recording. And now here is the Tom Bingham interview, which appeared in the Number 4, May-June issue of FFanzeen. Obviously, Web sites were added later on.

Ken Highland is a unique figure in rock’n’roll fandom.

His dedication to the music and to his concept of fan-as-contributor to the music has remained unswerving since the first golden era of fanzines in the early ‘70s. In an era when fanzines were devoted on one hand to documenting rock’n’roll from the ‘50s and ‘60s, on the other to serious analysis of then-contemporary rock, Ken’s Rock On was one of the first fanzines totally committed to the idea of rock’n’roll as fun.

But it was as co-founder, writer, singer, guitarist, and guiding spirit of the original Gizmos that Ken Highland made his most enduring mark on fandom. The Gizmos first EP on the Gulcher label (gulcher.gemm.com) both foreshadowed and transcended the then-developing New Wave.

Yet at the height of the Gizmo’s fame, Ken Highland was both physically and musically removed from the band – for the most part, tending to his duties as one of Uncle Sam’s “few good men,” yet leaving time to perform and record as a key member of the Afrika Korps, and more recently a duo (with Ken Kaiser) called the Korps.

While a lot of people know Krazee Kenne as a writer, as a Gizmo, as a Marine, as a Korpsman, as an image, little has been written about the real L/Cpl. Kenneth E. Highland; who he is, what he’s trying to do, how he got “that way,” whatever “that way” may be. The interview which follows, are his responses to my typed questionnaire.

We begin, logically enough, at the beginning:

Kenne Highland: I was born on a Monday, a day like any other day, April 2, 1956; same day Chuck Berry released “Roll Over Beethoven.” In December ’64, my parents got a D-I-V-O-R-C-E. My family atmosphere then was pretty WASP-y.

FFanzeen: As you look back, did moving about affect your eventual musical/lyrical outlook? For instance, did it expose you to different kinds of music, different sorts of people and experiences, etc.? I guess what I’m looking for is an “explanation” of how Ken Highland developed into Krazee Ken / Kenne “Gizmo” Highland.

Kenne: Yeah, moving about had one major influence on me and did kinda cause a chapter in my life. See, down south, I was exposed to what my parents listened to, which was typical Republican MOR like Ray Conniff, my homie Mitch Miller (from Rochester!), et al., plus my father liked Ray Charles and they also got into the early ‘60s clean-cut folk revival (heavy on the Peter, Paul and Mary, and Brothers Four LPs). Plus, my mother likes pre-Beatles ‘60s schlock a lot, which is why she grooves to all Kenny Kaiser’s tunes in that genre.

When I moved up north [to Brockport, NY, which is near Rochester], all I knew of the Beatles was that my mother and brother had heard “She Loves You” on the car radio one morning after they’d dropped me to school; plus Halloween, my neighbor gave me a Beatles bubblegum-with-card. So here it is, December ’64, and all my girl cousins are Beatlemaniacs; and even though I was a bookish Elvis Costello clone who hated music, it did affect me. In other words, this was my first real exposure to rock’n’roll.

FF: Were you a “punk” from the start, musically speaking, or did you try a little bit of this and that before you settled on your particular vision of crazy teenage rock’n’roll?

Kenne: Nah, I wouldn’t have labeled myself a punk in the ’60s. All the true punks hung out at Ida’s Soda Shop in downtown Brockport and went to the Panther’s Den. They were the school bullies, and I was too afraid of them to even walk on the same side of the street! I didn’t really get into music till 5th grade (’66-’67 school year) when this kid Carl Tagliabue transferred to our school from New Jersey. Since we were both outcasts, we became friends (ditto John Speary and Alan Baase, who played in primeval Highland bands in high school). Carl was a true record fanatic / Beatles freak.

Come ’68 and 6th grade, I sorta became a hippy, or at least had a more liberal outlook on life and music than did the jocks and greasers in my town.

I got a paper route summer ’68, and from then on became a full-fledged record fanatic, spending all my dough on vinyl, even belonging to three record clubs at one time. The ’69 “Back to Roots” fad started, so I became an archaeologist of sorts, discovering who did the originals to all those oldies the Beatles covered, then buying ‘em. ‘Seventy was my most eclectic year – I was into the “underground” sound: oldies, jazz (care of [Jack Kerouac’s] On the Road), folkies, Blues, even classical (Stravinsky, coz Zappa named him as an influence). As for becoming a “punk,” that came about due to 1) reading Nik Cohn’s Rock From the Beginning, which at first pissed me off, but later became my bible. I quoted from it when my sophomore English teacher praised all them folkies, who I dug as a hippie, but now scorned, coz I was wanting rock’n’roll; 2) buying Stooges’ Funhouse October ’71 (along with Go Bo Diddley) – at first I thought, “Are these guys serious?”, but I later loved it to death; and 3) reading the fanzine Flash #2, which again preached rock’n’roll, and to hell with heavy-metal, folkies, and all other hyphenated rock.

FF: Who would you name as the important influences in your music?

Kenne: Well, the Beatles for one; especially John Lennon – reading Hunter Davis’ biography on them [The Beatles] and how Lennon didn’t give a fuck and was just plain raunchy motivated me; that plus the Stones’ biography by, I think, David Dalton [Rolling Stones: An Unauthorized Biography in Words and Pictures - RBF], coz Jagger and the rest hated gym class as much as me and didn’t give a fuck. I’d also cite Bob Dylan in his speedfreak stage, coz of his bizarro lyrics, and Chuck Berry, and later on, MC5 / Stooges / Velvets / Dolls.

FF: Have your influences been drastically changed by the recent New Wave explosion?

Kenne: My influences weren’t drastically changed by the New Wave really. In fact, I resented the fuckers coz they were doing exactly what I was doing; only I was in boot camp and unaware.

FF: Do you feel the Gizmos in some way influenced the New Wave, since they were in it practically before anyone else?

Kenne: Naaah. Half the fuckers were heavy-metal dope-smoking hippies and coulda cared less! We were really too isolated to copy anyone, except maybe the Dictators and Patti Smith, coz they said anyone could be a rock star and make an album, so fuck it, we made a record.

FF: The world’s first exposure to Ken Highland was as a fanzine writer / publisher. How did you come to make the transition from rock’n’roll writer to rock’n’roll performer? Was this something you’d planned to do all the while, or did your move to Bloomington, Indiana, and your linking with Bob “Bear” Richert and Eddie Flowers somehow set things into motion?

Kenne: First things first, here. First off, I was a fucking musician before I was a writer! In ’69, I played guitar twice – my cousin had a Japasonic which I attempted to play the Sgt. Pepper’s theme on; goddam thing was so outta tune, it worked with open strings! That summer, my neighbor from India had an acoustic, and since I’d picked up The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan for $1.88 in a Grant’s bargain-bin in Brockport, I was attempting to do a Guthrie-ish talkin’ Blues that was on the LP (and failed!). Instead, fall of ’69, I wrote a dozen tunes in 8th grade, all Dylan / Pepper’s obscuro stuff. Memorial Day ’70, I went to John Speary’s house and his sister had a Japasonic with amp and made my first recordings; a Bo Diddley-calypso version of “Old MacDonald” (I was on piano and maracas), plus John and I co-wrote one called “Sign Collector” (covered in ’74 by O. Rex; it sounds like “Sister Ray”). I was guitar-mad now; kept bugging my mother for a guitar and she finally relented by Xmas (I’d already bought a harp summer of ’70, which I blew Dylanesquely, till the next year I learned the Blues off a Canned Heat record).

Xmas ’70, I brought my brand-new acoustic to John’s place and we made some Godz-like tapes and officially had a band we were gonna form called The Squeeze, on Orange Records (coz Les Beatles had Apple). That cellar / bedroom band lasted most of ’71, till John became a jock and we drifted apart. Instead. In 10th grade (’71-’72), Alan Baase and I played around a lot. I’d bought my first electric August ’71, and got lessons from a punk-cum-hippie (after he discovered drugs). Big Al and I had a pseudo-band, Big Dick and the Penis Erections, sorta inspired by John Mendelsohn’s Christopher Milk essay in Rolling Stone. I envisioned this band as rockandroll, doing Stones / Kinks / Bo Diddley / Chuck Berry tunes and just going mental; sort of an Iggy / Jagger lead singer, a Chuck Berry / Keith Richards lead, the all important rhythm guitar, and a Stones-ish rhythm section. All this and more led Alan and I into fanzines, inspired by Bomp and the New Haven Rock Press. I got my style of writing from R. Meltzer and co.’s “fuck-it” style and the serious critique of the hippie papers. I didn’t even wanna do a fucking fanzine, but Alan, who was pretty tall, pretty much told me I was, so we mimeo’d off Rock On on a mimeo at work, using stolen supplies. Our junior year, Alan talked me into taking lithography and we put out two offset issues of Rock On in ’73, which lead to many fanzine connections, among them Flowers and Bear [Gulcher fanzine - RBF].

I’d been pen-pals with Solomon Gruberger since fall ’71; we met and jammed June ’73 (that’s me, him and his brother Jay, who already were O. Rex). I told everyone that when I graduated, I was gonna move to NYC and become famous (never did), and instead wound up moving to Bloomington to become a rock writer, coz, as usual, I’d quit playing guitar that summer, saying “Ill never get anywhere,” etc.

FF: After the first [self-titled] EP, your participation in Gizmos’ recording sessions was severely hampered by your enlistment in the Marines. Still, your songs appeared on the next two Gizmos EPs [Amerika First, Gizmos World Tour – RBF] and your personality seems to dominate them. What’s your opinion of those two EPs? Do you feel the rest of the band did a capable job translating your intentions to vinyl?

Kenne: I think it’s pretty obvious I didn’t give a fuck about them really, coz I was officially a member of the Afrika Korps, though I'd use the Gizmo fame to further my name. It was a weird trip going through my head – I’m supposed to be in an East Coast band with old high school friends, yet the Midwest band is doing good in print (not one bad review in ’76). Anyway, I met my wife-to-be [Linda a/k/a Miss Lyn of Boston Groupie News fame: bostongroupienews.com], so I wanted to spend time with her, instead of going into the studio. I said, “Fuck it. Rich Coffee’s a better guitarist than me, [Ted] Niemiec and Flowers sang better on that first EP than me; they don’t need me.” I finally showed up though, and sang two songs, one appearing on one EP, the other on the other. I’m not too proud of the singing.

As for the other Gizmos’ performance of my tunes, at the time I thought it was better, but my fans / friends / girlfriend didn’t. I dunno, I’m still a bit insecure about myself as a performer in the musical sense. I know I can perform, but technically I can’t sing on-key, despite what Martha Hull says, and I can’t tune a guitar worth a fuck. But again, Dylan and Lou Reed are idols to some clowns (myself included), so if they get over, so can I.

With the second [formation of] the Gizmos, Bear gave me the option of being a silent partner and I didn’t give a fuck; this is essentially his trip and he kept me informed of what was happening. But again, since all I knew was Ted Niemiec, it was hard for me to relate to faceless names. Besides, my closest friends in the Gizmos were Flowers and Coffee, so wit them out, I knew what we’d envisioned as a band (to be the Stooges / MC5 / Velvets / Dolls) wasn’t gonna happen that way, coz, well, Bear ain’t that way. [It is important to note at this point that Bob “Bear” Richert has been releasing much of the early works of Kenne on CD – both Gizmos and Afrika Korps/Korps – with his Gulcher imprint, so he must appreciate what Kenne was doing back then – RBF, 2010].

Let me define Gizmo here: I met a punk-cum-hippie kid who taught me guitar, while harassing me at other times. Digger said there was this spastic kid in school, had cerebral palsy or something – legs and hands all bent – and Digger and some other punk-cum-hippies were in study hall and we usta trip [him] all the time and the other [guy] said to Digger or visa-versa, “Hey…” and he pointed to said spaz – “Gizmo.” So this individual was the original Gizmos and, mostly to harass me, I got labeled with it, coz, well…I’m left handed and have 20/200 vision and can’t play sports worth a fuck, so I am pretty spastic, but then again, I concentrated on music so’s to make these nerds eat crow! I mean, man, they’re all working factory jobs, deserted guitar playing almost altogether, still carrying that San Francisco look and being 23-24, and still living in Brockport!

FF: How did you link up with Ken Kaiser, the Grubergers, and Kim Kane to form the Afrika Korps? How did the Ken Highland songs on the Music to Kill By album come to be recorded by the Afrika Korps, instead of the Gizmos?

Kenne: I linked up with Kenny Kaiser February ’77, via a Ft. Lee, NJ, Marine named Don Buckley, who was stationed at Ft. Meade, MN, with me. Buckley’d told me about Kaiser and visa-versa, and Kaiser had read about the Gizmos in Creem. I met the Grubergers through a pen-pal correspondence in Circus mag beginning fall ’71, and, like I said, we first jammed June ’73, again doing real rock’n’roll. Covering “Louie, Louie,” Alice Cooper, Yardbirds, Who, and a Grand Funk-ish “Gimme Shelter.” We thought we were good then (I should say Solomon did – I knew we sucked), but it went along with the punk aesthetic of “so bad it’s good”), and Solomon kept saying, “We’re gonna cut a record.” So Flowers and I were in Brooklyn the month after the Gizmos, and Solomon wanted to do a record, mostly coz he was jealous, but the tape fucked up, so instead, me, him, and Jay did the O. Rex maxi-45, which is an embarrassment to me, but the Kinks second record sold 127 copies and so did this, so we were happy with our failure.

After the O. Rex fiasco (I never did like the name), we hit upon Afrika Korps in an insomniac night of KISS Alive and neo-fascism. Solomon this time said, “We’re recording an LP”: I hoped to hell it didn’t sound like O. Rex. I met Kim Kane of the Slickee Boys one night at a Ramones concert in Georgetown. Kim and I talked all night, after being introduced as mutual fans. I told Kim / Marty of our plans to record an LP and we both agreed it’ll be neat to have a “supersession” of DC peeps on the LP, and the rest is history.

We recorded the session on my off-duty weekends at Ft. Meade. See, that duty station was the greatest and it was midway ‘tween Baltimore and DC, and only four hours from NYC, so I was closer to the Grubergers than when I lived in Brockport! Solomon and I originally envisioned the LP as one side his tunes, recorded in NY and one side my tunes, recorded in DC with assorted Slickee Boys. Didn’t quite work out that way, but we did record the LP in some very violent sessions from January-May ’77.

We originally recorded in NY in January, then February-May in DC, though there was an April ’77 session in NJ, which I didn’t attend coz I was either Gizmo-ing, dating Linda, on duty, or didn’t give a fuck; and it was there we got the best sound. The other engineers were clowns who didn’t even like what we were doing; unsympathetic.

I wrote quite a few three-chord numbers as a teen (recorded both by O. Rex and Gizmos), but once I went in the Marines, I started getting more complex, more melodic, and stole quite a few heavy-metal licks, too. I went on a spree of writing fall of ’76, while stationed at Quantico, VA – I was on guard duty late at night walking in circles, so my ever-active mind just made up songs, which I’d put to music at the Kane house my next off-day.

FF: How did the Afrika Korps become a duo called The Korps? Does the Korps exist outside the studio? Will it exist past the Hello World LP?

Kenne: The Afrika Korps officially became the Korps in December ’77, when the Grubergers split from us, or us from them. I don’t like to air dirty laundry, but suffice it to say the Afrika Korps had too many egos, and like Cream and the Beatles, were too good to last. Solomon and Jay are still together and they’re planning on doing other records. I stuck with Kaiser for some unknown reason – a great loyalty battle here, coz here’s my friends not getting along, as usual, and I had to rob Peter to pay Paul, but I stuck with Kenny, much to various ex-members’ chagrin. Sure, he’s a dictator, but when you’re as irresponsible as I am…

So after the Grubergers left, we auditioned nerds from NJ for bass and rhythm guitar, and that sucked, so I had Kenny move up to guitar and share vocals, coz as Afrika Korps’ drummer, he was the best guitarist in the band. Through ads in the Aquarian, we got a drunk Puerto Rican / Italian bassist from Jersey City and an 18-year-old pothead on drums, and played one gig Easter ’78 in Kenny’s basement and that Korps went kaput that night, for other fucked-up reasons. Kenny and I toyed with various names, like the Rabbis, Eddie and the Enemas, but stuck with the Korps for commercial reasons.

The way I see it, when I get out of the Marines, he and I will reunite in Boston, get a rhythm section and do what we can. He wants to record an EP as a follow-up to Hello World, and has talked of Album #3; and Album #4 has to be Korps Alive, so…

Hello World was recorded with just the two of us (stole the idea from White Boy) doing rhythm guitar and drums, then Kenny, technical genius that he is, overdubbed most all the instruments, and me singing a lot, plus gotta add those Slickee Boys (Kim Kane pays for a third of our records, so it’s pretty obvious…)! Since I had only two off-duty weekends a month, it’s like Kenny and I would do sessions every couple of Saturdays and I’d leave all the other bullshit to him to do while I was guarding our country’s defense. I’m still not all that keen on recording; the stage is my forte.

FF: Do you feel Hello World, or at least the Highland-sung tunes, accurately reflects Ken Highland as he is today, what you’re thinking, what you want to do musically, what you’re capable of doing? And how does Martha Hull always get to sing the best cut on any Highland-Kaiser album?

Kenne: Oh, hell, yeah! Even though all the Highland tunes on World, except “Lark” (which is ’72 circa “[Pumpin’ to] Playboy,” “[We’re Gonna] Rumble,” et al.), were 1977 composed, it’s still where I’m at more than the old Giz-Korps stuff. I’m especially proud of the “Do the Touch” / “Designs on You” / “Mad at the World” / “Gotta Be Pretty” sequence, coz I wrote all of them inspired by a week straight of watching the Slickee Boys, when they had Howard Wuelfing. I’d say it’s how I am today – I write a lot of Mersey-Beaters now, inspired by “Heart On,” Graham Gouldman [10cc], and Lennon-McCartney; only I’ll always have that Iggy / Dolls rasp to my voice. What I’m thinking… Well, these Mersey-Beaters are love songs full of pronouns, like the early Beatles, so peeps can’t accuse me of too many inside jokes. My main theme is love now, mostly coz I’ve been six months separated from my wife, and it motivates her to hear love songs inspired by her, though she’s not mentioned by name. What I want to do musically? Well, I’d like to improve the sound, clean it up, but keep the balls. Kaiser and I are like Lennon-McCartney – I have the rough diamond, he polishes it, and we keep the other in check, so as not to out-wimp the other.

As for what I’m capable of doing – well, you can hear the difference (Michael Miller, who co-authored “Amerika First” says Hello World sounds like Sgt. Pepper’s compared to the last LP [Music to Kill By]), but it can still get better, though a lot of it’s Kaiser’s doing. And the reasons Martha Hull always gets to sing the best songs on any Highland-Kaiser LP is because she makes it the best song on the LP; that chick can sing! [youtube.com/watch?v=mRy9BPn3au8]

FF: What’s your next musical step? Do you have any plans to do any more recordings during the rest of your Marine hitch? Do you think you’ll be making a career out of rock’n’roll when you get out, or will it remain an all-consuming hobby?

Kenne: I plan to get the fuck out of the Marines, and again, don’t look back; get with Kaiser, get with a band, and get famous! Linda is behind me 100 percent for a musical career.

FF: Now that you’re a married man, do you think that after you’re out of the Marines you’ll settle down to a nice cozy, middle-class existence like a “normal person?” If so, will Krazee Ken still be krazee; will you still be doing songs like “Gimme Back My Foreskin” and “Nobody’s Girl,” or will you vegetate into a prematurely middle-aged mellow FMer?

Kenne: Now, goddammit, too many think that coz you’re married, you gotta get a job, have a million baby Kennes with big smiles and big heads…bullshit! Muthafucka, I’ll be rockin’ like Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee and Link Wray when I’m fifty. Course, I won’t be doing “[Gimme Back My] Foreskin” / “Girl” type tunes – that was ’76; this is ’80! Naw, I see myself being like the AM stars of now, who were FM stars when I started. Like Bob Seeger – he commercialized just enough to get famous, but still screams and goes wild. Ditto KISS. When Bill Rowe and I saw Black Sheep our senior year, he said, “Ken, I like what Black Sheep is doing – that’s what we should do.” I said, “You’re fuckin’ crazy! We gotta be like Iggy and Alice and the Dolls and go wild and shit.” Guess I was wrong, huh?