Ode to a Mixed Tape – ‘70s Underground

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

This tape was made around 1980, created when I was getting ready to drive to Boston for the first time. Well, actually, I was given the opportunity to “couch” it at my friend Joe Vig’s place on Dragon Ct., in Woburn (about 20 miles north of Boston). This was the trip I would also meet the great Kenne Highland (who gave me easy directions for a local, but totally confusing for a New Yorker: “take Mass Ave to Comm Ave…), and photographer Rocco Cippilone, who would go on to create Bang! fanzine before disappearing into the ether.

The idea for the tape is of a collection of the start of the underground scene in New York (and beyond), that is loosely chronological at start, but varies as the vinyl came into my hand from my collection. As always, I have tried to find a video of the original release of the song as it appears on the tape, and if that’s not possible, an alternative or live version by the same artists. The qualities of the videos vary widely.

SIDE ONE

The Stooges - I Wanna Be Your Dog
The New York Scene of the mid-‘70s, starting with the New York Dolls, could arguably be considered the bastard child of Iggy and the Stooges, and the Velvet Underground: a mix of melody and amelodic layering. It’s harsh and sharp, with lyrics that were certainly not by the books. The VU had “Venus in Furs” and the Stooges had this, both of which have sadist / masochistic themes. While the VU one smoldered with artistic leanings, this just rocked as they did in Detroit in those days. Sometimes Alice Cooper gets lumped in with the “father of punk” label, but as much as I respect the man, even with angst ridden lyrics, he was more theatrical rock, much like KISS, but punk was stripped down (even though many of the early fans came from liking the both of these).


The Stooges - Search & Destroy
With Ron Ashton’s guitar madness (RIP Ron) holding this tune up, Iggy just explodes in one of the best opening lines of the period: “I’m a street walkin’ cheetah with a heart full of napalm.” In that timeframe, this line alone can be seen as one of the key reasons Iggy was seen as such a strong proto-punk figure. I’ve seen Iggy two or three times now, including at the Brooklyn Zoo and the Palladium. At Zoo show, he was a couple minutes into a song, when someone threw some ice at him. He stopped the song, and snarled, “Don’t you fuckin’ throw ice at me. This isn’t a request, this is a command!” Then he started the song from the beginning.


The New York Dolls - Personality Crisis
The only time I ever saw the Dolls in the ‘70s was post-Johnny and Jerry, and it still was exciting. Their sloppy stage performances were just what was needed in the days of excess but technically precise musicianship. The group was a perfect combination of musicians who were in worlds of their own while on stage, musically stepping all over each other, but they making it work. If I made this tape today, I would have followed this with “Trash.” (RIP Johnny, Jerry, etc.)


The Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop
This is the start of true punk rock, even though the Ramones never considered themselves in that genre (Miriam Linna, in 1977, said to me that they did think of themselves as punks. This iconic song was mostly created by Tommy, originating as “Animal Hop,” before the rest of the band put their creative input to task, and came up with this, the most played of the Ramones songs. I remember at least 4 or 5 television commercials that have used it, the first being a beer ad. While I don’t think it’s their best song, it certainly seems to be their best known. (RIP Joey, Johnny, DeeDee)


The Ramones - Glad to See You Go
As much as I loved the self-titled first Ramones album, it’s their second and third that are my favorites. As this song shows, the lyrics are a bit stronger, the melodies are more pop without compromising their fierceness, and they rock hard, as Suzi Quatro may have said.


The Ramones - Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment
The grilling guitar as Joey sings the title line is a great shredding sound that would be imitated often by harder metal bands to come. If I made this tape now, I would have probably put in “Rockaway Beach” here, which has come to be my favorite Ramones song of the moment.


The Ramones - Oh Oh, I Love Her So
See, the Ramones could write some beautiful love songs without giving up who they were. I’m surprised a certain fast food chain hasn’t snatched this one up as a theme. I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen the Ramones play, starting with a show shared with Talking Head (who opened) on June 20, 1975, at CBGB. My first roll of 35mm film was used to take snaps of the Ramones, and the contact sheet was recently signed by Tommy, thanks to my pal Bernie Kugel. It’s framed on our living room wall.


Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Blank Generation
While I was never into drugs, this song managed to feels like it defined me in its moment in time, and I still consider myself part of the blank generation as a term to describe a regular on the New York City mid-1970s pre-punk rock/New Wave underground music scene. What a great opening line: “I was sayin’ let me outta here before I was even born / It’s such a gamble when you get a face.” Plus Richard Lloyd’s ripping, nearly a-tonal guitar shatters any preconceived ideas about standard song structure. The Voidoids and Television (at some point, bassist Hell was in both) were far closer to the center of the Velvet Underground noise and Stooge’s rock sonic attacks. (RIP Bob)


Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Love Comes in Spurts
This is about drugs and sex as much as Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline” was about women and cars. There are three versions of this song that I know of: the earliest by the Heartbreakers (another band in which Hell was a member) which is represented in the video below, the Ork single that is on my tape, and the one from the Sire album, which is the better known. I put the one I liked best on this tape.


The Heartbreakers - One Track Mind
The lyrics to “Love Comes in Spurts” was written by Hell, and the music by Walter Lure. When Hell left the Heartbreakers, Lure wrote his own lyrics on a similar topic line, but the chorus is on a different part of the melody (ingenious, actually). When the title of the song comes up in the chorus, I like to overlap it by singing the original lyrics. Like something Sondheim would have done (or not!). While the line “There’s tracks on my arms / And tracks on my face / Tracks on the walls / All over the place” is the most quoted, my favorite is “My rule book is thin / It says ‘Don’t. Come. In!’” I understand Thunders was the main focus of the Heartbreakers, but Walter was equal in my eyes as far as personality, and possibly further in talent. I really miss the Lure / Thunders / Nolan / Rath version of this band, when it was at its peak they were (usually) tremendous to watch.


The Heartbreakers - Let Go
Now it’s Johnny Thunders’ turn on vocals, as he commands, “I don’t know why you just don’t bloooooooowwwwwww.” The video below is live, but mine’s from the L.A.M.F. album.


The Heartbreakers - Chinese Rocks (Live)
Written by DeeDee Ramone, the ‘Breakers make it their own by changing the lyrics at the end of each chorus. My tape is taken from the Live at Max’s album, and while the video here is different, it has the same altered lyrics, though the sound on the album is superior. Any one who knows me will tell you I love the Ramones, but the Heartbreakers’ version of this song is superior.


The Dictators - Master Race Rock
Led by four Jewish guys, the irony of the title of this song is not lost on their fans. From their first Go Girl Crazy album, basically this is making fun of the class bullies more than anything else, with hysterical lyrics, killer rock bottom, and a sailing guitar. It’s a perfect combination of Shernoff and Manitoba vocals, with a sharing of stanzas and chorus. I mean, how can anyone take lines like “My favorite part of growing up / Is when I’m sick and throwing up / It’s the dues you’ve got to pay / For eating burgers every day” serious enough to point a finger at the boys. I saw the band play many times, starting in ’75, and every one was a great show. DFFD.


The Dead Boys - Sonic Reducer
First time I saw the Dead Boys was them opening for the Damned. In fact, it seems the first few times was that combination, and always at CBGB’s. The Dead Boys were a killer act, and arguably the first hardcore band. From the opening salvo of the scream/whelp of “I don’t need anyone!” the challenge was initiated. Whether ripping off Mariah Aguier’s top onstage (I was there that infamous night) or crawling into the crashing drum kit mid-song, Bators was more than a singer, he was a force. The Lords of the New Church never really did that much for me, but the Dead Boys has not been matched by any of the band members’ other work. My tape has the opening cut of their Young, Loud and Snotty LP, though the video below is a live take. (RIP Stiv)


The Dead Boys - What Love Is
“I wanna write on your face with mah pretty knife / I want some of your precious smile… / I want you to know what love is.” That’s starts the chorus. Some of the songs on the album was dedicated to one of their underage groupies, Lydia Lunch (“I Need Lunch,” “Caught With the Meat in Your Mouth”), and I was kind of thinking this may have been as well, for some reason. There is a sense of both anger and pleading for understanding that runs through this. Bator again handles it with strength, and just the perfect hint of whine. The video below is a bad live version, but it’s the best I found.


Tuff Darts - Slash
Robert Gordon, who fronted Tuff Darts for it’s initiation, fortunately stayed long enough for two live songs recorded for the Live at CBGBs double album. This is a truly ballsy song about a groupie (I used to know which one, but I can’t remember these days… Fox?). It’s just full of sexual contempt, and pre-rockabilly Gordon totally emotes that he’d rather “Slash my wrists and cut my throat / Than have to spend the night with you.” I never saw Tuff Darts play that I can remember, but I have a fond memory of interviewing the band’s true leader and fashion maven, Jeff Salen, at his clothing store on 72 Street a long time ago. Say what you want by Gordon’s replacement, Gordon really fucked this band over royally, and what was his reward? A couple of near hit singles (“Someday, Someway” and “Only Make Believe”) and some non-selling albums. They could have been the Teenage Head of New York.

SIDE TWO

Tuff Darts - All For the Love of Rock’n’Roll
This song is more manifesto than anything else. It posits, “I don’t care about the money / I ain’t seen none / And I don’t care about the women / ‘Cause I just need one / The reason I say it / You really oughta know / It’s all for the love of rock’n’roll.” Someday, someone needs to do a bigger cover of this to perpetuate it. The video is from Jeff Salen’s Memorial. RIP, Jeff.


Patti Smith Group - Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)
The first time I saw Patti was at the now famous (and often bootlegged) show at the Bottom Line. She was such an exiting performer, especially in a smaller setting, where she would come out and talk to the audience and read some poems as the Group set up, and then when everyone was ready, she’s usually lead off with “We’re Gonna Have a Real Good Time Together.” The Horses album is one of the first of the New York underground scene to be recorded, and there is not a bad cut on it. Imagine how brave it must have been to have the first line of the first song of your first album start off “Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine.” I realize she was being poetic, but remember the hell (pun intended) that Lennon went through not very long before with his Jesus comment. When the PSG did the song on the first season of Saturday Night Live, it was well received. Now, it would probably cause a scandal due to that line; think of what happened to Sinead O’Conner. Despite a long fallow musical gap in the ‘80s and ‘90s, Patti came back and her material is as magnificent as ever. I’m looking forward to reading her new autobiography about Mapplethorpe. (RIP Richard Sohl)


Patti Smith Group - Free Money
I actually wanted to put “Land” here, but the song is nearly 10 minutes long, and it would have taken up too much time. So I picked this wishful song of desperation, that if I remember correctly, features Tom Verlaine (another of Smith’s paramours) and his flashing guitarwork. Like I said, the album is flawless, so I just went with an eeny-meeny pick.


The Afrika Korps - Jailbait Janet
After Kenne Highland left the Gizmos, he came to the New York tri-state area and did a song that would become one (of many) of his I-IV-V classics. This is a true story of a rivalry between Kenne and his friend, and the woman they both lusted after. Kenne is back doing music, and I look forward to hearing so much more from the man who has fronted more bands than anyone else I know - a few of which I’ve seen, and one I was a participant in both the naming of the band (The Hopelessly Obscure) and a recording session down the block from the Rat. The video is live; the album cut on my tape is not.


Talking Heads - Love (Goes To) Building on Fire
The Talking Heads only released one song as a trio, before Jerry Harrison joined the band, and it remains my favorite, despite the “inexplicable use of horns” (as Michael of the ex-Bleecker Street store Disc-o-Rama once said). I saw them a few times, the first opening for the Ramones in June 1975 (the Heads’ first show), and I was intrigued. Without any implication meant towards Harrison, I thought the keyboards made them too slick and I lost interest shortly after he joined. This song, their first release on Sire, is a non-LP 45.


The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso
From their first groundbreaking self-titled album, Jonathan Richman ended up being into the more pop side that followed on his next album by the time this came out, and refused to do any of the songs live when it hit the streets. Actually, I prefer the second album to the first, but this is a nicely dark and thumping song, which is highly influenced by the Velvet Underground (John Cale would later cover it).


The Modern Lovers - Road Runner
While the video below is the album version, though I actually prefer the alternate from the Beserkley Spitballs comp album (my fave JR song, “The New Bank Teller, is amazing), which I have on my tape. A digression… This mixed tape was playing as I was driving up to Woburn, and when Richman says, “Can you feel it out in Needam now?” I had just past the sign for the town. Then he sings, “Out on Route 128, by the power lines.” At that moment I was on Route 128, and there to the left were the power lines. It was a Keanu Reeves “whoa” moment.


Blondie - X Offender
Blondie were opening for the Ramones the second time I went to CBGB’s during the early summer of 1975, and I saw them quite a few times after that. At either that show or the one after, Debbie presciently stated, “Here’s our upcoming disco hit, ‘Heart of Glass’.” This was before they were even signed to a label. And speaking of which, Chrysalis released this single before the first album came out, which has a different mix. The video, fortunately, is also the single version. For me, Blondie’s best release was their first album, which had everything I liked about the band. After, they became way more over-produced, glossy and polished, and while they were still interesting, their records became more and more blah for my tastes at the time.


The Criminals - The Kids Are Back
After Sylvain Sylvain left the Dolls, but before his underrated stint with the 14th Street Band (whom I saw a few times, including at Hurrahs with the Rich Kids opening, featuring Glen Matlock and Midge Ure – who I found pretty lame), he formed the Criminals. This single is a nice, kick-ass number showing that he had more chops than just backing up Johansen. But even here he can’t get away from his Dolls “jacket,” naming off all the previous band’s members at a later point in the song. The video is the same song, but done live and with a different band backing him up on a telethon.


The Count - The Morn of the Confrontation
I was going to visit Joe Vig, so I figured I may as well put one of his songs on the tape. This was one of his very early recordings, and one of his best of the time. It’s a full out production, with a great tune and strong lyrics. He cries out on the chorus, “Seems like I’m trying / You know I’m trying all the time!” Viglione is another musician whose material is better than his career as a musician, which is a shame.

The Jumpers - I Wanna Know What’s Going On
Ah, the Jumpers, from Buffalo. Their first single was produced by Bernie Kugel by money borrowed from Dave Olka, it was written by band member Bob Kozak and fronted by the irrepressible (and Joey Ramone-level tall) Terry Sullivan. Kozak remains a strong songwriter (he and Kugel have performed together a number of times). Both this song and its flip, “You’ll Know Better When I’m Gone,” are likeable numbers in a Real Kids vein (or vice versa).

The Marbles - Forgive and Forget
From the first time I saw the Marbles, I fell in love with their sound. They had a scene-level hit with their powerpop Ork release, “Red Lights,” but I chose this Eric Li fronted number for this tape. Eric struggled with the high notes, but the melody and harmonies are as wondrous today as they were then. The Marbles only released two singles, but neither contain my favorites, “You Tomorrow” or “She’s Cool.” There is a live video of one of their shows floating around in some studio, and I recommend seeking it out (the clip below is from it). (RIP Eric)


Iggy Pop - Lust For Life
I started with Iggy, so I end with Iggy. This is one of his first solo hits, which has been way overused in commercials on television. It’s a commentary about the evils of consumption, and it’s used to promote the same. Go figure.


BONUS:

Road Trip to See the Ghosts, Vol 8: Robsart (con't)

Text and photos (c) Robert Barry Francos, 2010

This April, fellow photographer John Penner and I went on a two-day road trip through southwestern Saskatchewan in search of ghost towns.

Many of the houses were left wide open and ranged from either ransacked at some point, or actually relatively intact. The town of Robsart, as of 2001, had 15 people living in the town, in 11 residences, but the town was larger in its existing form, with most buildings abandoned.

Here is the eighth part a photo journal of the trip, with descriptions. There was so much to see in this town, Robsart was broken up into two blogs, the first being published May 30, 2010. The images can be enlarged by clicking on them.

Robsart, Saskatchewan
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robsart,_Saskatchewan

A leaning house, not in Piza.


A rusted and lonely play yard behind a house.


This house was in sorry shape, as it has been converted into a chicken coop and animal pen; though it was empty, it was obviously still in use, full of feathers and animal crap.





The town repair garage. There was still a car in its bay. The tail end of the building was being held up by a 2x4.





Beaver Lumber, the local hardward store. Inside was packed full of odd things, like a "Last Supper" towel on a chair, 8-Track tapes, some records (in rough shape), a bunch of cash registers and adding machines of various vintages, and some old community newspapers (mostly from Alberta) dating from 1949 until 1963.







The grocery store, with a large bay door for supplies.


I'm guessing this was a gas station at one time (Texaco?); or perhaps where the local coven meets.



The second big house in Robsart, this one closer to the center of town.


Many old cars were parked behind the second big house.







A truck out in the field near the second big house.

DVD Review: You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks
Voice Print / ABC Entertainment, 2010
87 minutes, USD $18.95
Voiceprint.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

I have never seen a documentary about the Kinks, and that alone makes this worthwhile. However, I did see the band play the Felt Forum in November 1974. The opening act was themselves, doing their touring set. Then they came back and did the entire Preservation show (both parts).

The Kinks were one of those bands that cool people seem to like. Yeah, everyone who picks up a rock guitar plays “You Really Got Me” when they first start learning (along with “Louie, Louie,” of course), but they were different than, say, the Beatles or even the Rolling Stones, in that they were a bit off kilter (i.e., not following the norms in style either musically or vocally), despite their early strong blues bias. That is also what makes this documentary so interesting.

As documentaries go, this is somewhat light footed, but that’s fine. For the first few years of the band’s history (this film starts when the band is formed), the songs are represented by the Kinks performing live in concerts, usually made up of full songs, with no narration over them. Starting off with television appearances in the U.K., most of the rest of the early period songs are signified by two concerts, one from 1966 in black and white, and the other in color during the mid-1990s, where the full band, including Dave Davies on flashing guitar, plays their more famous numbers, sometimes faster than the original (“You Really Got Me,” for example).

Speaking of the b&w concert, I had forgotten how much lead guitarist Dave also sang in the early days, such as with “Milk Cow Blues,” since he is often overshadowed by his brother, with whom he shares vocals on this particular video. Ray Davies, in the later footage, ranges from extremely fey to solidly aggressive. It’s a shame they had such a tumultuous relationship, because they played off each other so well, both in the early footage and the later. Both Ray and Dave are among those who give first-person accounts in the doc.

Luckily, Max Leinwond’s narration is held at a minimal, especially at the beginning, though it becomes slightly more intrusive in the middle segments. Luckily, it’s not enough to ruin much of the music parts. The writing is kind of fluffy and not overly deep, but again, I would rather hear the songs with some dialog than the other way around, especially for a group like the Kinks, where their sound is king.

In the States (where they were banned from performing though the late ‘60s due to Republican misguidedness (there’s a redundancy for ya), they actually had more hits than most can probably think of off the top of one’s head. One of my favorites, and one of the very first 45s I ever purchased, is “Well Respected Man,” which is represented here. Dozens of their hits are, though I noticed a lacking of “Sunny Afternoon,” and then there’s “Lola” and “Tired of Waiting,” both great songs, which are mentioned in the narration but lacking in soundbites.

Speaking of their songs, and this is a digression, I never realized how much the rhythm of “Superman” sounds like Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” (which is funny because both characters are from rival comic companies…but I digress in my digression).

The footage used, along with those in concert, include backstage shots as the band roams around the dressing room waiting for their call, and home movies, and some interviews of Ray and Dave, among others.

Seeing the progression of the band in one overview makes it interesting to be able to track how the band changed over the years, from hard bluesy numbers, to a harder rock sound at the end of the ‘60s, to a rock opera, and then to ‘80s charting formulas. The latter period (post-MTV) is shown here as music videos rather than concert shots, including their later hits, “Predictable” and “Come Dancing.”

There is a brief interview with Ray in New York, where he discusses the Kinks in relation to punk. He posits that punk was not directly influential by the band, though punk may have adopted their quick playing. Personally, I believe their influence was more that Ray and Dave are not conventionally “pretty” singers, and their earlier songs were also not formulaic for the time.

Unfortunately, the odds of the original Kinks getting together again are slim, with Dave Davies having suffered a stroke and full recovery is not expected. This happened after the date of the DVD, so it is not mentioned, though neither is Ray’s fathering Chrissy Hynde’s offspring, not that it has anything to do with their music, I will admit.

Yes, this is not a perfect documentary, but very few are. That being said, I highly recommend this. Uberfans (like Gary and Doreen) will just kvell, and even those who just loved their music for what it was, will be happy.

Here is a taste of what’s on the DVD; notice the use of “sharp” elbows everywhere by the people dancing in very jerky motion…I just find that interesting, as well:


Bonus, unrelated video:

Book Review: "Cold Pizza for Breakfast," by Christine Lavin

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

Cold Pizza for Breakfast: A Mem-wah??
By Christine Lavin
Tell Me Press (New Haven, CT), 2010
480 pages; USD $21.95 / CAN $27.95
ISBN: 978-0-9816453-6-0
www.tellmepress.com

One evening in the early 1990s, I was walking up Seventh Avenue in the ‘50s, right in the heart of the theater district. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone about to enter a taxi. My eyes grew wide and my heart started beating. I screamed out, “I love you, Ellie Greenwich!” She stopped half-way in and out of the cab, smiled at me, finished getting in, and was off into the night.

That’s similar to the way I feel about Christine Lavin. No, I’ve never met her, though I did see her perform once at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival in upstate New York, but what I am attracted to is her work. Her friends call her Chris, but until the day I do meet her and she say’s it’s okay, I’ll call her Christine.

Christine Lavin is like the great Den Mother every kid wishes they had, and for which every singer-songwriter hopes as a mentor. This is the autobiographical story covering the last 25 years, of how she rose from a struggling East Coast folkie to achieve the level where she is beloved by so many in the field. A true singer-songwriter’s singer-songwriter.

My first memory of her, as I recall, was a song on a compilation, which contains her contribution, “Mysterious Woman.” Using a seductive tone, she playfully posits a desire to be perceived as “mysterious,” by having everyone wonder what she’s thinking about: “Existentialism? Nihilism? Wrong…I am thinking about defrosting my refrigerator.” This playful intelligence runs through so many of her songs, covering politics (with a great, strong left leaning), science (including microbiology and astronomy, I kid you not), as well as the softer (“Jack and Wanda”), frustrating (“Attainable Love”), amusing (“Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind”), and devastating (“The Kind of Love You Never Recover From”) side of romance.

Why do I bring up all this before even discussing the book? Well, Christine tends to write her life into song, constantly updating, and this book is a song in its own right. There is often verbiage in a Lavin concert (check out her superb live DVD, Girl, Uninterrupted), and she writes as she talks, from the heart, with a little bit of candor, a helping of humor, and even some schmaltz.

There are two expressions that are common with Christine: when agitation and confusion comes from without, it’s “Wah?” (hence the subtitle of the book), and when the angst and uncertainty comes from within, it’s “What was I thinking,” which is title of, not coincidentally, one of her better known songs. The title of this book, of course, is also a song title (though her “I Don’t Make This Stuff Up, I Just Make it Rhyme” would have worked as well).

This autobiography, her first, comes after 20 solo releases, 9 compilation collections, and a few books, such as a cookbook and one geared towards children about her song “Amoeba Hop” (thought I was kidding about the whole biology thing, hunh?). But it is more than a standard autobio. Yes, she tells her life story of growing up near West Point and hanging out with the New York Jets (including Joe Namath) as a child, working as a waitress in a folk club in Saratoga, NY, moving to New York City, and getting a boost by being taught by the legendary Dave van Ronk (who also gave Bobby Zimmerman lessons on his way to Dylan-hood).

Christine’s songs are stories based in fact, told poetically and yet completely assessable, and that is how she writes this book. It is not only her life story, covering her music, career, and obsessions (such as knitting and Dame Edna, which she goes into great detail), but on some level it’s also a how-to for the folk music business. Always the abovementioned den mother, Christine doles out bon mot advice throughout the book (e.g., never promote an act you have to apologize for), always giving credit to whomever gave that advice to her.

There are moments in the book that tear at the reader, such as discussing the fallout of 9/11, including how it may have contributed to the death of van Ronk, and her describing in grim (and yet amusing) detail about a few times when she didn’t quite please the audience.

One can hardly call this autobiography a dishy “tell-all,” if you’re into salacious readings, as she avoids detailing her love life, and in most cases when she does discuss someone who has had a negative effect on her life (such as a promoter), she usually leaves the person unnamed; although she gives quite a nice dig at ex-punkers/New Wavers, the Washington Squares, which I found particularly amusing because I’ve hung out with two of them, have been in the third’s apartment, and am a fan of their output. I was holding my sides laughing through those passages.

But in her modestly, she also doesn’t go into great detail about how admired she is by others. For example, she excludes the story of how a bunch of folkers got together and secretly recorded a 2-part tribute album of her material called Big League Babe, and then presented it to her for her birthday, on stage at the Bottom Line during one of her showcases.

Part of the reason she is so admired in the biz is because she goes out of her way to promote other musicians. She casually drops names in the book, not as in “look who I’ve worked with,” but more “you should check out…” including the likes of Richard Shindell (search out his “Are You Happy Now”), fellow Van Ronk student David Massengill (whose releases I’ve reviewed), and so many others. Always on the search for new people, Christine is genuinely happy to get a community going, which she explains in the book how it is done so the reader can do the same.

[The version of the book I read was a pre-release, that did not contain the Appendix or photos, so I will bemusedly leave this space blank until I see a copy.]



This autobiography is an easy and fun read, and it is easy to recommended it to anyone who loves stories of the beginning of one’s career, road stories (including a large focus on Canada and Australia), a somewhat how-to, and as a source of new music worth listening to by other artists.

Yes, I’ve never met Christine Lavin, but she makes me feel comfortable and comforted, with her easy manner on stage, and in both song and voice, sung and written. My partner read the book, and though she is less familiar with Christine’s work, she thoroughly enjoyed the book as well, finding the cheerful and hopeful tone in the face of both luck and adversity, enjoyable and hopeful.

DVD Reviews: Final 24: Janis Joplin and Keith Moon

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Film images from the Internet

Janis Joplin: Her Final Hours
Season 2, Episode 4
Directed by Paul Kilback
Cineflix International, 2007
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

Keith Moon: His Final Hours
Season 2, Episode 5
Directed by Peter St. Laurent
Cineflix International, 2007
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

I had never heard of the Canadian television series (a joint Ontario / Quebec venture) Final 24: A Dramatization, but I want to see the whole series now. It’s a hoot.

Actually, this is a fine mixture of first person interviews, actual footage and photos of the artist, and actors dramatizing the last day in b-roll format (silent under the narration). Through it all is British narrator Danny Wallace (though IMDB states it as Dave McRae) leads us on the journey in flat tones that sound like Neil Innes doing a roving news reporter. The dialog he reads is somber and unintentionally cringe-worthy, with lines like “Little did Janis know that she had just bought the drugs that would kill her in only so-and-so hours.”

But that is part of the charm of this two-season series (here is the list of the people covered: www.imdb.com/title/tt1020621/episodes). Yes, I realize I’m using humorous terms about the tragic death of humans, but really, after all the media attention over the past 30-plus years, their lives have become more iconic than real; whether this is a good thing or bad, it’s up to the individual to decide.

The last-day vignettes are performed mostly as silent plays (in rare occasion a word or two will break through, such as Keith Moon’s lover screaming “No!” when she discovers him). The actors playing the main roles are interesting choices. Sara Hennessey is an Ontario-based actress and comedian, who plays Janis slinking along in a stupor, mostly, and actually shows some of her own personality, as well as Janis’s. A little lithe and perhaps too pretty for being Janis, she still does an excellent job embodying her, as well as can be done as essentially a mime.

Keith Moon is portrayed by Michael Rode, who is actually miscast. Nothing against the fine acting job he does, but unlike Sara, he looks nothing like Moon: he’s too tall, too thin (remember, this is the last day, so it was Moon at his most bloated, as the film clips and stills attest), and looks too young (even in the narration, it’s posited that all the substance abuse had made him look older than his years).

So that is the entertaining part of the show, but lets get to some meat here: what really makes the program is not necessarily the last 24 hours, which is nicely dissected in increments of events with a digital clock showing how much time the subject has left to live (which is constantly reminded to us by the narration), but the overview of the person’s life. Each of these have present day (relatively) interviews with people who were prominent in the person’s life. For example, in the Janis Joplin episode, some of the musicians that backed her up over the years remember her, including from Big Brother and the Holding Company, the Kozmic Blues Band, and the Full Tilt Boogie Band. There’s also road managers and other acquaintances, including a gushing high school classmate and a somewhat bitter take from her brother Michael. There is no commentary by her sister Laura, though, who wrote a book about Janis.

For the Keith Moon episode, I found the interviews even more interesting (if possible), from Moon’s live-in lover, the stunning Annette Walter-Lax, who discovered his body, and his daughter, Amanda Moon, who comes across as sad and somewhat angry that she didn’t really get to know her dad. Ironically, there is also an interview with Faces’ drummer (and Moon’s good friend) Kenny Jones, who would go on to replace Moon in the Who (though he could never live up to Moon’s standard – but then again, could anyone?). Walter-Lax easily comes across as the most sympathetic, even to this day.

There is also a level of salaciousness that goes through the tone of the pieces, added to by the creepy writing and narration. “In just 10 hours, s/he will be dead,” we are reminded often. There is a large focus on the negatives for the protagonists, whether it’s Janis’s drug intake (though trying to clean up and pointedly failing), easy manner with both men and women, mistreatment back in Ft. Arthur – including her ill-fated attempt to return a star – and her unhappiness with her first two bands. Oh, and then there is the quickie engagement and fight with her boyfriend the night of…well, you know.

With Moon, it’s excess of escapade, the accidental running over and killing of his friend / driver Neil Boland (and the depression that followed), the constant threat of being kicked out of the Who, and the large volume of drink and pharmaceuticals he ingested (though trying to clean up and pointedly failing). The DVD covers state, “These are psychological detective stories attempting to uncover the mystery of why the celebrity died.”

This is the video equivalent of a celebrity magazine, where all the faults are highlighted in yellow, and yet one can’t take their eyes away. I want what I say here to be taken the tongue-in-cheek way I mean it: the Final 24 series is like fast food, but like that fine eating, it is addicting, enjoyable, and you just want more. I’m hoping to get to see the whole series at some point.

Bonus videos:

Road Trip to See the Ghosts, Vol 7: Robsart

Text and photos (c) Robert Barry Francos, 2010

This April, fellow photographer John Penner and I went on a two-day road trip through southwestern Saskatchewan in search of ghost towns.

Many of the houses were left wide open and ranged from either ransacked at some point, or actually relatively intact. The town of Robsart, as of 2001, had 15 people living in the town, in 11 residences, but the town was larger in its existing form, with most buildings abandoned.

Here is the seventh part a photo journal of the trip, with descriptions. There was so much to see in this town, Robsart will be broken up into two blogs. The images can be enlarged by clicking on them.

Robsart, Saskatchewan
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robsart,_Saskatchewan

The Robsart Community Club. It is an interesting looking building, despite its box shape.



Two houses across the street from the Club, and the start of the residential part of the deserted end of town.


The fence falling down in front of the white house (next image).


The white house, in need of a good painting.


Inside the white house. The kitchen still had groceries in the pantry, including a bag of Robin Hood flour, and lots of bug sprays.






The red-and-white striped house.


The fence and bushes to the r-a-w house.


Dead car behind the deceased r-a-w house.


The brown house, stripped of paint.


Car behind the brown house.


Main street of Robsart from the edge of town.


This is the biggest house in town, right at the far edge. It was stripped down to nearly it's roots, with the inner walls exposed. It was kind of scary going in, but the view from the top floor alone was worth it. All that was left in it was a stove and some electrical wiring leftovers.
















The view of the town down the main street from the upper floor of the big house.