Thursday, September 1, 2016

DVD Review: Blowing Fuses Left and Right – The Legendary Detroit Rock Interviews

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet

Blowing Fuses Left and Right: The Legendary Detroit Rock Interviews
Directed by Gil Margulis
O-Rama / MVD Visual
180 minutes, 1988 / 2013

It was 1988, and print fanzines were kind of petering out, and the Internet was still a gleam in the eye. It was more a time of cable access coming into the realm of fan possibilities. New Jersey native and future tech-wiz Gil Margulis knew that. Being a big fan of the sound that had come out of the nascent punk scene of the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, he grabbed his camcorder and with a birthday present plane ticket from his parents for his 19th birthday, he set out to find out more.

What he came away with was phenomenal, including extensive interviews with Ron Aston, Rob Tyner, and Dennis Thompson, three legends from the Detroit music scene of the late 1960s that are presented here. There were others (an extended version of this DVD exists with more interviews), which would be culled into a documentary directed by Margulis called Back on Shaking Street. Now he’s released the original, full interview tapes.

There is a recent documentary I reviewed about the Grande Ballroom called Louder than Love, and missing were interviews with Ashton and Tyner, as they both had passed on a while back (both of heart attacks), so it was good to hear their take on it all, even from nearly 30 years ago.

There is no doubt that the bands that Ashton, Tyner and Thompson represent are part of the pantheon of what was to become not just punk rock, but heavy rock and metal in general. No one presented rock and roll the way they had before, be it the fuzz and noise of the Stooges, or the sheer weight and pounding of the MC5. For its time, it truly was musical anarchy.

Back in the days of camcorders, which generally weighed about 7 pounds (bought mine in ’85), it seemed like an amazing tool: a video you can make yourself was proto-Social Media. Looking back after years of High Definition and wear-and-tear on the breakdown of the magnetic tape in the VHS, the quality is kinda… iffy by today’s standards. But oh, what gloriousness has been captured by the little folks who previously could only view what was presented rather than creating what you want to see.

The DVD is broken up into four parts. The first is just over a minute long of Margulis standing in front of his Westfield, New Jersey high school, where the MC5 played in 1969 (around the time he was born), talking about how the music that came from that city changed his life. He isn’t the only one, as even Henry Rollins has oft discussed the turning point of hearing the Stooges and MC5. For some, I know it’s Alice Cooper; others, the garage madness of the Amboy Dukes. But the Stooges and the MC5 were a different, rougher breed that relied on power more than shock theatrics or psychedelia (without my meaning to disparage either of those bands).

Ron Ashton, who died in 2009, was the guitarist of both the Stooges and noise-punk pioneers Destroy All Monsters. Thing is, Ashton had a reputation for being, well, cantankerous and standoffish. But for Margulis, that didn’t seem to be an issue. With the camera set up in the kitchen of Ron’s mother, a few Coors and ciggybutts, Ashton frankly tells his story of the Stooges, straightforward and very relaxed. You can hear his mom in the background, and someone named Bob answering a phone, but Margulis askes some decent (but not overly deep) questions about the Stooges history.

In describing the early Stooges, their volume was infamous, and that is where the title of this DVD comes from, as Ashton comments that when the Stooges played early on, they were “blowing fuses left and right.”

Destroy All Monsters doesn’t come up until nearly the end of the interview. After being finished with the basic Q&As, we are taken to and shown the front of the house where the band rented to first practice for the summer before their gigging started. After a few minutes there, we are next taken to the house of the Stooges first manager. The importance? It is where the Stooges played their very first gig, in the front living room of that (then) tiny house, which is now a business. We don’t see the insides to these two places, but hey, that is really okay. It is a treasure to hear the Stooges story from Ashton, as it tends to come from either Iggy Pop or James Williamson, the band’s second guitarist who joined after the band was established. This segment last for 40:19. Hell, it’s almost worth it just to hear him use the phrase grok.

The next segment is a lengthy 1:13:00 with Rob Tyner, the vocalist of the MC5, who changed the world with his now infamous battle cry, “Kick out the jams, motherfucker!” Margulis’s camera is set up in his home, and he is also very straightforward and quite charming, as he sips his mug and talks about what Detroit was like when he was growing up, where your choices were the factory, the military or college, and how he was determined to do none of those.

One of the interesting topics he covers is how competitive the Grande was, especially to the British touring bands, rather than a communal “flower power” mindset. Tyner tells about how Cream found it rough to play with them, and reported them as “Insolent” to Grande owner Russ Gibbs. But Tyner says, matter of factly (but with a gleam), “This is Detroit and they’re lucky we didn’t shoot ‘em.”

Tyner especially starts to perk up when he talks about political philosophy, discussing Reganism, violence, and especially his bitter feelings towards the MC5’s association with political poet John Sinclair, who managed the band. According to Tyner, the way Sinclair described himself was as “Pharaoh of the Hippies,” as he drained the money from the MC5 to further his own Maoist and “White Panther Party” rhetoric and movement. One of Tyner’s major regrets was the association of the MC5 with politics, which he believes brought down the band in the long run.

Thanks to some more comprehensive questions from Margulis, Tyner elaborates a lot of what he thinks of the then-flourishing punk movement (NME sent him to England to write a story about the British scene), the differences of Detroit then and now both musically and communally, and his work with the band Vertical Pillows.

However, he never mentions a single other member of MC5 by name. It’s also interesting to hear Tyner talk about the future, and his fear about where the world is going when he’s old. He further mentions that he could die at any moment, thoughtful considering he died just three years after this interview at only 46 years, in 1991.

Last up is the MC5’s drummer, Dennis Thompson, for 45:12. Thompson sits in a room in mirror sunglasses (which he takes off early on, thankfully), Hawaiian shirt, smoking a series of cigarettes, and for some reason has an assault rifle behind him next to a window. Thompson was also the key for Margulis to contact and set up the rest of the interviews.

While he starts of a bit on the pretentious side (“today’s music sucks because they don’t have fast cars; now it’s all four cylinder”), when he gets down to it, he really strips it down, explaining how the band was not the political vanguard, it was all hype, and other than being against the Vietnam war, they were apolitical. Their manager, John Sinclair, however, was not, and knew how to manipulate the media. All the MC5 wanted, he posits, was to be a great rock and roll band. And that, he further states, was ruined in part by Jon Landau: the MC5 were the first band he produced, and Thompson states he didn’t know what he was doing, so the record – and band – suffered for it.

In the second half of the interview, Thompson starts plays schoolteacher to Margulis by holding a globe and explains how people are now mediated and revolutions from the ‘60s were buried and controlled, which also affected the legacy of the MC5. He challenges Margulis with “you have to go back to look at bands that are dead and gone because they had something to say, and you don’t hear that nowadays.”

The last third of the interview is the most interesting (it’s all worth watching, but this especially), when Thompson goes on an absolute political rant about governments, capitalism, terrorism and the world under Reagan. Wow.

Honestly, it took me a while to get to this DVD, being 3 hours long, but now that I’ve watched it, it was a good time spent. It gave me a bit more of a background of the Detroit scene of that time, which really was a unique macro-ecology/-economy of thought and sound, which has since spread this message beyond the barrier of the time in which it took place.


Thursday, August 25, 2016

DVD Review: Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet

Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story
Produced and directed by Tony D’Annunzio
74 minutes, 2016

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second, there are the images. I am not talking about the talking heads interviews, I mean both the live footage and stills from the day that show just how extreme the entire scene quickly became. There’s everything from onstage action to, well, Eric and Ginger at the family supper.
What I found also interesting was the juxtaposition shots of what the Grande looked like then and its condition now, but more on that later.

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

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

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

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



Bonus video (not on DVD):

Saturday, August 20, 2016

DVD Review: Janis – Little Girl Blue

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet

Janis: Little Girl Blue
Written and directed by Amy J. Berg
Disarming Films / Jigsaw Productions /
FilmRise / MVD Visual
103 minutes, 2015 / 2016

If you look at the director’s credits, most of Amy Berg’s films are documentaries about children and women who have been abused by the system, especially by those in power in a religious setting. It kind of makes sense why she’d choose this topic because Janis Joplin’s life was also a series of failures on the part of support systems as she reviled in the church of Rock and Roll.

For anyone who grew up listening to her music, the stories of rejection in high school and in the town of Port Arthur, Texas, resonates. That’s part of why the cult of Janis started, because people of her generation and beyond heard and saw in her the pain, which gave voice to their own, possibly for the first time; this is especially true for women.

Now, there have been umpteen books and documentaries about Joplin over the years since her death in 1970, and even Bette Midler’s film, The Rose is somewhat based upon her, but most try to paint her as a victim, be it of her culture, of the time of drug experimentation in San Francisco, of bad management (such as Albert Grossman), of other musicians, of the music lifestyle, record producers, a failed relationship, whatever. Despite “Little Girl Blue” in the name, Berg takes a somewhat different and more even-handed approach, which makes it a better film.

Berg does not shy away from anything, be it Joplin’s bisexuality (though barely), her drive to fame and success, her fragile ego, and her substance ab/use, which makes the film all that more compelling. She paints Janis as a human, not just a myth. Part of the way she does this is by vocalizing some of the letters she wrote over the years to her family in Texas, spoken by Chan Marshall (better known as musician Cat Power), who gets the tone and intonation spot-on, without it being a caricature impression.

Actually Berg makes many good choices throughout. For example, she hits the high points in Janis’s rise, such as Monterey and Woodstock, but also doesn’t dwell on them by looking at some questionable choices, giving some balance to her life and career.

There are many archival images and videos, both as a young’n and throughout her famed career, both onstage and off. I’m a fan of Joplin’s music and talent, but I would be hard pressed to say I was an expert on her. I’ve seen lots of performances, thanks to YouTube and the like, but there were a lot here that I had never seen before, including some interviews both on national and local television (e.g., Dick Cavett) and regional press.

Along with that, there are numerous interviews with those who were there with her, including her family, childhood (and beyond) best friend, members of all of her bands (Big Brother and the Holding Company, the Kozmic Blues Band, Full Tilt Boogie Band), Kris Kristofferson, Country Joe MacDonald, Dick Cavett, Clive Davis, and so forth. But rather than the standard talking heads, she makes the talker seem more intimate with strong close-ups, and by incorporating what they are saying into archival footage rather than just watching them jaw.

There are also some cool extras, so even if you have seen the airing, it may be worth checking out anyway. First one up is titled “Avalon vs. the Fillmore,” at 4 minutes. Bob Weir (of the Grateful Dead), among others, discuss the difference in atmosphere between the two clubs, and how Janis got kicked out of one of them (not telling which). At nearly 1-1/2 minutes, the remaining members of BBHC get together for this film in “Big Brother Acapella,” and do a modified version of “Papa-Om-Mow-Mow.” It’s almost surrealistic (but no pillow).

Especially powerful is the next 5-1/2 minute “Influences,” in which women musicians (Chan Marshall, Pink, Melissa Etheridge and Juliette Lewis) talk about what Janis meant to them, and what it is like to give all and then be alone at the end of the show (Melanie Safka has a great song about this phenomenon called “Leftover Wine,” FYI). For the last extra, the 4-minute “Walk of Fame Ceremony” follows Janis’s brother and sister to Hollywood in 2013 to see Clive Davis uncover her star. As one fan rightfully states, “The Olsen Twins have one and it took them this long for Janis? Shame.”

This documentary has been heaped with praise since its release and airing on PBS’s “American Masters” program. I’m not surprised, as it’s one of the better rock bios I’ve seen in a while. It clearly shows Janis as a flawed human without either excusing her behaviour, or pointing a finger.


Monday, August 15, 2016

DVD Review: I Need a Dodge! – Joe Strummer on the Run

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

I Need a Dodge!: Joe Strummer on the Run
Directed by Nick Hall
Tin Dog Productions / Cadiz Music / MVD Visual
67 minutes, 2015

If you have to ask who Joe Strummer is, well, you’re reading the wrong blog post. Honestly, he was the only one of the Clash I actually thought was cool (though Paul Simonon had his moments). That being said, the Clash started out as one of the biggest punk bands out of the English phase, and turned into one of the biggest disappointments. London Calling was a mixture of amazing work and commercial dreck, and by the time Combat Rock came out, I couldn’t listen to their stuff anymore. It was almost a relief when Strummer left the group around 1985.

Thanks kind of where this documentary really starts to pick up. I didn’t realize that Strummer headed for Spain; he had a fling with an Iberian woman early in his career, learned some Spanish, and fell in love with the country.

While there, Joe hooked up with a band in Granada called the 091. This seemed ironic, since his first recordings in England were with the similarly titular number-oriented and underrated 101ers. Pre-Joe, the 091 considered themselves punk, but musically I would say they were closer to the New Romantics pop, along the lines of Simple Minds or Tears for Fears (at least in the short clip we see of an early incarnation of the band). Gathering a popular Spanish band called Radio Futura, he then recorded with them as well.

Most of the members of these bands, and other friends from that period and before, are interviewed in the film, which is mostly recorded in Spanish in oral history mode, meaning there are no questions heard to be asked, just the participants telling their stories. There are some nicely done captions in English with a few other languages available. Also included is a Spanish version of the film on the DVD as one of the extras, which I did not watch.

And where does the title of the film come in? Joe Strummer bought a Dodge (or Spanish knockoff, depending on the storyteller) while in the country, even though he had neither licence nor registration (in someone else’s name) and somehow he lost it by forgetting where it was parked. During a radio interview in Madrid, he mentions how he wants to find it, and there is the premise. It’s kind of a slim one as it’s not discussed all that much at the beginning, but that’s fine. What we get instead in a post-Clash Strummer who was mostly out of the Western Hemisphere’s eye, and this fills in the gaps quite nicely.

Most of the early part of the story is more of Joe’s involvement with the musicians, including trying to produce their LP and battles with the ill-equipped record label that was more used to classical Spanish music than anything as raucous as Joe would tip is toe into.

I like that the story has a few different layers, like a history of Strummer (d. 2002) in Spain, the involvement of the car, and also Strummer’s working with the Spanish bands. All these threads are conveyed by those who were there, rather than a third party, such as a journalist who had written about it.

At first, the car comes into the conversation on occasion, focusing more anecdotally of his involvement with the 091 and Radio Futura, but as the tale plays out, the focus lingers on the titular subject more. We watch the director become the focus as he looks for the mystery car. Does he find it? Well, I’m not tellin’.

There is a lot that is formulaic about the formatting of the film, with multiple talking heads, but it remains interesting because they were there, and stories about Joe tend to be never dull. Also, Nick Hall is wise enough to know that most likely the audience for this film will not know these musicians and friends, so the title captions for each person come up pretty often. Thank you for that.

Another smart choice is that Hall keeps the film relatively short. Rather than dragging it out, he gets to the point in a mostly enjoyable roundabout way, not focusing merely on the car or the musicians, but edits it in an ever growing arc that keeps the interest level high.

There are a bunch of extras that go with the DVD, including a stack of deleted interviews that are mostly around a minute long, with a couple being around 3 to 5 minutes, and a 25-minute one with Pete Howard and Nick Sheppard, two members of the reformed Clash (who talk in detail about Joe’s troubled relationship with manager Bernie Rhodes). Taking these out were right, but so was adding them into the extras.

Another two bonuses are audio tracks of interviews with Joe, one being 13 minutes from 1984, and the other is also 13 minutes, from 1997. Both are in Spanish with subtitles. As an extra bonus sweetener, this is interview is also on a cassette (you read right) that is included with the DVD box. Sure it takes up more space on the shelf, but hell, it really is cool, proving once again what Marshall McLuhan said, that replaced technologies come back as art. In this case I might say art as fuck.


Sunday, August 7, 2016

Ming, 1998-2016

Text and images (c) Robert Barry Francos


Yesterday, we had to put down our precious Ming. She had a fast growing mass in her gut, and had lost nearly a third of her body weight. It was all very fast, and she let us know it was time to join her litter-sister, Memphis, who passed in February 2014. In just over a month, Ming would have been 18 years old, which is 90 in cat years (we looked it up).

Ming was an affectionate kitty who liked to curl up between us at night, or rest with her head on some part of our body (usually the one trying to get things done, like type or write). She would headbutt us to ask for a rub, and was very kind tempered, especially as she aged. She seemed to take an instant like to my dad, though he was not impressed with pets, but she was insistent. Ming was strong willed and usually got what she wanted.

Sleep well, little one, you are missed and loved.

You can find of more her and her sister's story HERE.

 

Monday, July 25, 2016

The Last Ramones Interview [1977]

Text © Bernie Kugel / Big Star fanzine, 1977
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet



These interviews were originally printed in Big Star fanzine, issue #3, dated Spring 1978. It was written by its publisher, Bernie Kugel, who kindly granted permission for this reprint.
I’ve had the opportunity to hang out with members of the Ramones three times. The first time was when Bernie interviewed them for the Buffalo State College magazine, Shakin’ Street Gazette, just before July 4, 1976, in the dressing rooms of Max’s Kansas City. This was the night before they headed off for their first tour in England. The next time was more accidental: we were heading up the stairs on our way to the offices of Sire Records when we ran into Joey on his way down. We had a nice conversation for a while, and then when we arrived at the office, we were given the pre-release, white label first Ramones LP (yes, I still have it). If it had been in reverse order, I would have had him sign it. The last time was during an interview with Joey for Videowave at Arturo Vega’s apartment in 1997, after the band broke up. He was wearing a butcher’s apron that said “Happy Birthday Oedipus” for a special recording he did to be played at the Boston DJ’s party (we watched them film it). I took the apron when we left as it had been finished, and found out he was furious about it. I made sure he got it back; part of me wishes I had kept it though.  

This piece was supposed to be part of a series, but as it was the last issue of Big Star, this was also the – er – last Ramones interview for the ‘zine. By the way, Bernie asks some great questions, rather than the usual nonsense people tend to ask over and over. – RBF, 2016


(The following comments are from conversations recorded in New York City and Buffalo in ’76, ’77, and ’78. And fear not, Ramones fans, for even if this is The Last Ramones Interview, the one that will make it totally unnecessary to ever do another interview with them, this is a multi-part article which is beginning now and will be continued in future issues.)


1978
Bernie: Do you have a favorite English new wave band now?
Joey Ramone: Clash. I like the Adverts.

Bernie: Do you have favorite songs by the Clash and Adverts?
Joey: I like the album; The Clash album’s great. I like “Gary Gilmore’s Eyes.” I like Gaye Advert; that’s what I like about the Adverts.

Bernie: Do you have favorite New York bands now?
Joey: Naah. I like Suicide… I don’t like many groups in New York… I don’t like many New York groups that haven’t gotten anywhere, like Blondie [did]; they’ve kind of made it. But of groups around now, there’s nothing around now besides the Cramps and Suicide.

Bernie: Do you look back to one special concert or set and think that was the best you ever did?
Joey: We just finished an English tour and that was fantastic. I can’t really think of any jobs in particular, 'cause everything’s been going really, really great.

Bernie: Do you ever think back to the early days at CBGB’s, playing to a few people, and think you wanna return there?
Joey: Naah, I try to forget about those days. I don’t think about those days.

Bernie: It says in the Bomp Newsletter that your brother [Mickey Leigh – RBF, 2016] plays guitar on some of the Ramones records.
Joey: He did the claps in “Sheena,” but that’s about it. [Check out Mickey’s book, I Slept with Joey Ramone: A Family Memoir, for more of the actual story – RBF, 2016]

Bernie: You like the Flamin’ Groovies?
Joey: Yeah.

Bernie: Do you have a favorite song of theirs?
Joey: “Shake Some Action,” “Please Please Girl.” When we were in England, we went to an NME party and they were playing, and they’re putting out a new album and I can’t believe they were playing these songs; man, they were playing “Paint It, Black” and all these Stones songs. I couldn’t believe they were playing those songs instead of their own songs because their own songs are so great. But they’re putting out “Paint It, Black” and Dave Edmunds is producing. And they’re putting out – what’s that song – “Feel a Whole Lot Better”?

Bernie: “I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better,” the Byrds song???
Joey: Yeah, yeah. They did that great.

Bernie: Have you ever played with a member of the band sick?
Joey: Yeah, all the time. We’re always sick.

Bernie: But I mean when one member of the band was so sick they couldn’t play and someone else had to replace them.
Joey: Oh, no, no… I mean, it doesn’t matter how sick we are we always play unless we’re really fucked up.


1977
Bernie: Ever see Richie Ramone anymore?
Joey Ramone: Naah. John saw him though the other day. I think he’s just like been in his house for the past two years and hasn’t come out.

[Bernie: What do you do for fun when you’re on tour?]
Joey: All I’ve been doin’ when I’ve been going to a record store is like… spending everything… broke.

Bernie: You should see the store across the street [Play It Again Sam’s, which would soon become Home of the Hits; both stores were Buffalo landmarks – RBF, 2016].
Joey: Yeah, the last few stores we’ve been going to are like that… yeah, I was at this store, it was a real gourmet collectors' store. The guys would just play albums in the little store and have a pile like this for a buck… used stuff.

Bernie: You don’t think they’ll be a lot of Ramones solo singles in the near future?
Joey: No, I don’t think so… maybe later, later on.

Bernie: Have you heard any records by any non-New York groups that make major label records that you thought was any good?
Joey: I don’t think so. I’m always listenin’, but I never hear nuthin’. I think it’s really exciting when you come upon something new that no one’s ever heard. But that hasn’t happened in a while… But I’m really into collecting and checking out those English bands.


1978
Bernie: “Babysitter” never came out; what happened with that?
Joey Ramone: Well, it’s out in England on the Leave Home import. I think what we’ll eventually do is put it out on the B-side of a single over here.

Bernie: Do you have any songs from the real early days you don’t do anymore?
Johnny Ramone: “Succubus,” “I Can’t Be,” “Girl What You Want From Me,” “I Just Want Something to Do,” “I Don’t Wanna Get Involved With You,” “Why Did She Write that Letter,” “Crazy Animal Stomp,” which became “Listen to My Heart,” “I Don’t Wanna Be Learned, I Don’t Wanna Be Tamed”…


To Be Continued [Not – RBF, 2016]

Sunday, July 10, 2016

SEX IN MIAMI [1984]

Text by George Beke / FFanzeen, 1984
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet

This interview was originally published in FFanzeen 12, dated 1984, by George Beke. If I remember correctly, Beke is actually a pen name of one of our staffers who wrote so much they wanted to use a pseudonym for some of their articles.

I don’t remember exactly how or where I met Sex in Miami’s lead singer, Clark Render (or if we only talked on the phone), but he was quite happy to have this piece published about the band. They were raucous in a milder-than-Electric Chairs way. That being said, the gender-bending was not common on the scene back then, with drag being more sequestered to gay bars and the like, even with Jayne (then Wayne) County being such a force on the scene. It wasn’t until Wigstock followed by the popularity of the PRIDE and Halloween parades that it became a bit more acceptable and – for lack of a better term – mainstream.

After this piece came out (pun not intended), Clark called me regularly to chat, and to ask for further coverage in FFanzeen. I explained that we were not in the habit of having follow-up pieces as we did not publish that often, but he kept at it, and I did enjoy our conversations. However, I had predicted that as soon as I stopped doing the ‘zine, I would not hear from him again. And I was correct when, in 1988, FFanzeen ceased in its print form.

Over the years I didn’t hear much about him, but in researching this reprint, I found he’s been active in the community performing at various venues, including off-Broadway and Wigstock, in a tour de force piece called “Dueling Bankheads,” a hilarious bit based on the oft sodden Tallulah.

Mikky Zsedely (guitar) studied photography and now owns the 10 Thousand Steps Bookstore in New York. Ralph Robinson (drums) moved on to play more jazz, including for the group C’Est What. He passed away in 2009 (a blog about him HERE). Tom Gartland (bass) would later work at Secret Sounds Studios in New York. – RBF, 2016
Self-described as “most confounding,” transvestite-led Sex in Miami extoll the virtues of preening through chaos. The band members – Clark Render on vocals, Tom Gartland on bass, Ralph Robinson on drums and Mikky Zsedely on guitar – are interviewed in Mikky’s East 13 Street apartment, sans Gartland, who was unavailable for comment.

FFanzeen: You’re very Kabuki theatre.
Clark Render: Thank you. Kabuki is a good word. Much better than drag or transvestite. Those words feel obsolete. I guess I wear mini-skirts because they feel good.
Mikky Zsedely: Clark has great legs.

FF: Right up front is a strong sense of humor.
Clark: We can’t take ourselves too seriously, without incurring fratricide; still, we do dream about world takeover.
Ralph Robinson: We want lots of money.

FF: You’ve managed to combine certain elements of cabaret, psychedelia, hardcore and salsa. Is this the ‘80s formula?
Clark: It really just reflects our own tastes. Destroy All Monsters [excellent noise band from Detroit, including singer Niagara and late guitarist Ron Ashton – RBF, 2016] is probably my favorite band, and of course its predecessors, the Stooges and the MC5. Those and other odd, obscure bands, like Pavlov’s Dog.

FF: What about new bands?
Clark: The Stars That Wouldn’t Shine from Bard College is great.
Mikky: I just like whomever I happen to be listening to at that moment.
Ralph: It’s a free-for-all and you steal whatever you can get away with.

FF: Do you see a new psychedelia movement bubbling up?
Clark: Well, one does get the feeling of a new chapter starting occasionally.
Mikky: Coca-Cola and coffee are psychedelic these days.

FF: Where is each of you from?
Clark: I was born in Florida and raised in Detroit.
Mikky: New York
Ralph: South Beach, Miami.
Clark: Tom, our bass player, is from West Haven, Connecticut.

FF: You’ve come across as a very New York band.
Ralph: We’re a Florida band.
Mikky: We’re an American band.
Clark: Florida via New York.

FF: You have followings in Philadelphia and Baltimore. Digress a bit on these.
Clark: Well, in Baltimore, people actually flock to buy our record and even line up for autographs.
Mikky: John Waters has our record. I can see why he made those movies [Polyester, Pink Flamingos, Female Trouble, etc. – RBF, 1984]. They’re nice people. They write fan letters and make you feel it’s well worth it.
Ralph: Baltimore likes winners, as in ’83.
Mikky: They have pink hotel rooms.

FF: And what about Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love?
Clark: Well, we got the ol’ brotherly shove from the Philadelphia police, but the audience and club people are great. One person, whose name I won’t mention without permission, has really helped us win the hearts and minds of Philadelphia.
Mikky: When the police searched us, they wouldn’t touch Clark.

FF: Your debut record features a song called “Japan Must Be Stopped.” What was all the fuss over it?
Clark: We received a letter from the Japanese embassy, inquiring as to the intent of the song, but anyone who listens to the last verse carefully will know we’re actually flattering Japan.
Mikky: “Japan” is a hot record on progressive radio stations from Iowa to Maine, from Tampa to Clearwater, and, of course, New Jersey.
Ralph: There’s a Sex in Miami record-burning wave sweeping the Southeast. They’re buying them up and burning them down.

FF: What’s next?
Clark: Well, a record deal would be nice for starters. We’ve got about a hundred great songs now and even though we’re in the process of recording a couple of them, namely “Celebrities on Booze” and “Here Come the Magnetic Discs.” We’d rather not be forced to put it out ourselves.

FF: But if forced, would you?
Clark: Absolutely.