Text and images (c) Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen
Today is the day we scheduled to put our beloved cat to sleep. She will be missed by her adopted father, her adopted mother, and her sister, Ming. She was a joy to be around, always at your feet waiting for a pet, or a chance to lick your thumb so you could clean her head.
A while back, in 2008, I wrote a blog about bizarre coincidences in my
life that would never be believed if they were fiction, linked HERE. Well, here is another couple that I could have added:
During the summer of 1997, my partner, M_____, had the opportunity to
teach for a semester through Europe, bringing a bunch of middle and upper class
Midwestern students to Amsterdam/Utrecht, Berlin/Petzow, Krakow/Warsaw, and
London/Bloomsbury. As these classes needed to be set up, she went for a month
during the summer, and the school associated with the program let me go along,
if I would pay for most of the transportation, my own food, and the difference
between single and double accommodations. Seeing that much of Europe for a
month for about $2000? Count me in, even if it took me two years to pay it off
(not counting for the 80+ rolls of 35mm film used that needed developing).
The plan was simple: during the day, M_____ would be working an
organizing her classes, and I would scout around, learning the way around,
checking out some highlights that she could use for the students, and generally
play tourist. There were major tours we would take together, such as the astounding
Wieliczka salt mines and Auschwitz (I and II) near Krakow, the Anne Frank house
in Amsterdam, and Queen Victoria’s Royal Pavilion in Brighton, but mostly I was
on my own most days. We would meet up at dinner, and spend the evenings
together.
During this month, there were two separate incidents which fall into
this category of whodahthunk coincidence.
Having grown up near New Utrecht Avenue (pronounced “yoo-tr’k”),
walking the streets of the town it was named after in the Netherlands, Utrecht
(pronounced “Oo-treCHt”) gave me some kind of vicarious thrill. Traveling along
one of the many canals that run through the absolutely lovely city about 20
miles outside Amsterdam, I was heading back to our hotel in the city’s center
where we were going to leave for Amsterdam by train the next day. There was
something about the Da Capo used and new record store at Oudegracht 10 3511 AM that
caught my eye (whatever that was), and I went inside.
The store was empty other than someone behind the counter, who was
busy working away.Over the store’s PA,
a Herman’s Hermit’s (yes, Mike, with Peter Noone) album was playing. I’m a fan,
so it was nice. Looking around, I noticed a “garage” section, which pulled me
to it, of course. There were some Get Hip label vinyl LPs by the Cynics, the
Brood, and yes, both albums by the Mystic Eyes, led by one of my besties,
Bernie Kugel. This definitely brought a smile to my face, because it’s rare to
find any Get Hip records in the States, and to find it in Utrecht was just
delightful.
Just around that time, the Herman’s Hermits LP closed out, so I held
up the record, and said to the guy at the counter, not knowing if he even spoke
English, “Why don’t you play this next?” The guy’s face lit up, and in a Dutch
accent, he said, with a surprised lilt, “Oh! Yah! Bernie Koogl. Great record,
man!” I’m not sure why I didn’t just say hello and introduce myself; perhaps
shyness in a different country, or if my memory serves me well, he really did
look quite busy, so I waved and saidgoodbye, and walked the rest of the way back.
When I got back to USA, I called Bernie and told him the story. He
knew of the place, which apparently is well known among the American garage affectionati
and bands, and the guy (Michael) has even hosted the Cynics and the A-Bones. It’s
a small world, indeed, and Walt Disney would probably be smiling if he weren’t
in anti-Semite hell.
The second story is even more out there. On the flight over to
Holland, M_____ and I were talking about our plans. She commented that when we
got to Berlin, she was hoping look up a New Brunswick born lesbian poet who was
now living in the city, but only knew her name (which I quickly forgot). Wow,
looking up a person in a foreign city the size of Berlin with only a name. So
much for that.
Through the days, I went to the bombed out Keiser Wilhelm Memorial
Church downtown, to the old part of East Berlin and the Neue Synagogue, had a beer under the television tower, and went to Museumsinsel (Museum Island). I also
took a couple of the Berlin Walks that are given throughout the city, usually
starting at the main train station, in the central district. Most of them are
run by students originally from other countries to pay for their education
(e.g., someone from France studying in Berlin would take a group from France or
Quebec). While my week in the city, I took two of them, one focusing on the Reichstag,
Berlin Wall and Brandenburg Gate area, where we saw the abandoned Checkpoint
Charlie. We also saw the largest part of the wall that remained, locked from
the public behind a fence owned by a multi-national corporation (the irony was
not lost on me).
The second tour was of “Jewish Berlin,” looking at some of what used
to be the Jewish neighborhoods of Berlin before, well, you know. There were
cemeteries, statues to those deported, and even one to a group of non-Jewish
women who managed to protect their husbands during the midst of the war. I was
also impressed by the sign for Rosenstraße, being that Rosen is my mother’s
family name (it was quite common, and that branch of the family actually came
from Prussia).
The person who led the tour seemed quite knowledgeable, and then
mentioned Fredericton. Later in the tour she also brought up a particular
Canadian poet. Jeez, I thought, could this be the person Marie was looking for,
and what were the odds it actually was her? After the tour, I approached her
and said, “Hi, my name is Robert, and I think my partner is looking for you.”
She looked at me quizzedly, and honestly, suspiciously. And rightfully so;
after all, who was this strange man from a tour asking her personal questions?
I told her about M_____ and how she was trying to find her, and asked her for
her phone number to pass along. She was obviously hesitant, but she did it.
When I met up with M_____ around suppertime, I told her the story of
the tour guide and gave her the phone number. She immediately and excitedly
jumped into the first phone booth we passed (remember phone booths?) and called
the number. Yes, astonishingly so, it was Carolyn Gannon, who had written a
book of poetry called Lesbians Ignited
that was causing great stirs in the lesbian literary circles.
Carolyn Gammon
M_____ met with her, and hired Carolyn as a guest lecturer for her
forthcoming class. While Marie did this just the one year, Carolyn has been
working with the same program since. Apparently, we led her to an ongoing
paycheck. This makes me very happy.
The following year, Carolyn and her partner, writer / scholar /
activist Katharina Oguntoye, came to Brooklyn to stay with us for a couple of
weeks, and just this past December, Carolyn stayed in our house in Saskatoon as
a Visiting Writer for the University of Saskatchewan. Her recent books include
two Holocaust survivor narratives (Johanna
Krause Twice Persecuted: Surviving in Nazi Germany and Communist East Germany and
The Unwritten Diary of Israel Unger).In fact, she read me a few of her poems from
her upcoming book that she is working on, and I’ve shown her around town
(including a night at the Saskatoon Symphony Orchestra, and the quaint City
Perks Coffee Shop. After Berlin, it was my turn to be the tour guide. All this
from a coincidental meeting that was certainly meant to occur.
I constructed a theory as I was
watching this, which I believe is both true and false: please feel free to add
your thoughts: The Stooges fall somewhere between the MC5 and the Velvet Underground.
They were sloppier than the MC5, but were less noise than the VUs.
While Iggy Pop was and is the obvious
front face of the Stooges, by voice and action on stage, Ron Asheton was the
electricity that flowed through it, charging him up. Even after Ron moved to
bass following the second Stooges album, with James Williamson taking over, he
played the bass much like a second lead guitar. Soon he left the band, but
rejoined it for a much later reunion tour. Sadly, he passed away in 2009.
Ron was a son of Ann Arbor, Michigan,
where the band formed, and it only seemed fitting that a memorial concert would
be held there at the Michigan Theater, on April 19, 2011, headlined by the
Stooges, the band he helped form. And yet, all these years later with only two
of the four original members (Iggy, and the other being the drummer, Ron’s brother
Scott Asheton), Iggy rightly states during the show, “We are still the Stooges.”
Everyone in the band is gray now except
Iggy, and they have all put on a bit of weight except Iggy. After all these
years, Iggy has simply remained Iggy. With leather skin and more wrinkles than
a Shar-Pei, Iggy’s energy and enthusiasm can rival most bands out there today.
All his signature moves are still present, like the sideways bend and twist,
the mic stand one-arm lean, jumping around the stage like a manic marionette, the
stage diving, and that wicked smile. His voice is as strong as ever, as well.
Produced in part by Ron and Scott’s
sister, Kathleen (“Kathy,” who is mentioned often on this DVD, but never
identified in person), this show is definitely a love letter to the city’s son.
Introducing the Stooges and to remind
everyone why they are there, is emcee Henry Rollins. He uses language like a
spoken word artist (which he is, actually) and explains how, in a 30-minute verse
that feels so much shorter, how members of his once band Black Flag turned him
onto the Stooges, why Ron was so important to that, how the new Stooges respect
Ron’s legacy while bringing in something of their own, and then brings it back
around to how he is introducing the Stooges to new fans around the world. Somewhere
in there, the verbally uncomfortable Scott comes out and gives a quick nod to
both Ron and Kathy. When Rollins finishes, the band (sans Iggy) comes out and
he leads them, with his classic wide side stance and mic cord wrapped around
his hand, in a solid version of “I Got a Right.” Normally his shirt would be
off, but in Michigan, that’s Iggy’s job.
When the Stooges reformed in recent
decades, it was the second line-up, where Ron was bassist rather than
guitarist, and when he passed, those shoes fell to ex-Minutemen Mike Watt.
Surely, Watt is not only an elder statesman of the punk scene, but a rock solid
and respected bassist. He’s also an interesting character if you have ever seen
an interview with him. But he is especially fun to watch on stage. He stands
there in a hockey’s goalie stance with legs spread and body bent forward. His
eyes follow Iggy around the stage with fascination, and with a big smile that
makes it obvious he is enjoying himself. In fact, it’s almost like he’s
watching the show, and his body is playing independently; yet, he never misses
a beat.
James Williamson is a force unto
himself, but has a slightly different cutting edge to his sound. I went back
and watched a 2003 show of the Stooges from Detroit, and Ron had a very
distinctive chainsaw sound that is a bit different than James, though both
deserve to be recognized. Listen to the opening of “Search and Destroy,”
probably my favorite Stooges tune, and you can feel the difference. Both great,
just not the same feel. Speaking of which, after about an hour into the show,
James disappears, and is replaced by fellow Michigan native and ex-frontman for
the Aussie punk band Radio Birdman, Deniz Tek. Again, he is more clinical than
either Ron or James, but he can sure wail.
For some reason, the camera does not
rest much on Scott. He’s always been a consistent element for the band, keeping
everything moving along smoothly. It also made me very happy that they were united
with Stooges saxman Steve Mackay, who seems to get the least attention when you
hear about the band. His shrill bark is definitely part of the band’s sound to
me.
Along the way, at “I Wanna Be Your Dog,”
the band is joined by an orchestra, who I’m not sure helps the sound or gets a
bit lost in it, but it is an interesting concept.
I mean, do I really have to tell you about the Stooges? If you don’t know
them, seek them out. There are so many of their classic hits here. Actually, if
you wanted a greatest hits collection, you’d probably have to just create a box
set of all their songs, but I digress…
While there are a couple of “special
guests” on stage, I’m glad this didn’t turn into a stream of musicians like so
many of these things, showing a pseudo “look how cool I am.” That being said, I
must admit I was hoping Niagara would be there to perform “Bored,” the song she
did with Ron in their post-Stooges band, Destroy All Monsters.
Stooges shows are always worth seeing,
and I have no problem watching this again, or recommending that someone else
does likewise.
There are a few extras here, including
a quarter-hour opening set by the Space Age Toasters, who mention twice that
they were named by Asheton. They dress like a surf band, but are obviously
punk. Lead singer moves really well, and the songs are actually quite decent.
There are also interview segments
lasting 5-to-10 minutes apiece with Henry Rollins (who mostly says the same
things as he does in his onstage band introduction – which I have no problem
with), filmmaker and hipster god Jim Jarmusch (not sure why he’s here, nor what
has he done in the last few years that matters), Ken Haas of Reverend Guitars
that has a signature Ron Asheton model, and with Deniz. Most of these are really
interesting.
The fact that it’s a live Stooges show
alone makes this DVD worth getting, duh, but that it is increasingly so because
of its purpose, and that all proceeds go to the Ron Asheton Foundation, a worldwide
charity concerned with animal rescue (find information HERE).
Before there was Steve Jobs standing on a stage telling
us we needed to buy cell phones and tablets, Apple was run by Steve Wozniak. He
wanted to take his profits and, much like Sir Richard Branson of Virgin, do everything,
Woz, as he was sometimes known, had the idea to spend his money on some tax shelters
that he could use to spread the Apple name to the populace. I actually don’t
mean it as cynical as it sounds, but you know what I’m sayin’.
The US Festival was a huge music event that drew an
average of over 300,000 people per day, and had some of the world’s top
musicians at the time, as well as those who were on the way up.
By the early ‘80s, hardcore had a shaky start and was
totally not financially viable in any kind of way. Black Flag? Cro-Mags? GG
Allin? No one heard of them on a national level, other than something like “…a
riot at club so-and-so last night with so-and-so band was playing…”
Also, many bands I was interested in had turned a corner
of popularity and had lost my attention. I mean, after the London Calling double set, did the Clash really do much that was innovative? U2 had become super-obnoxious
superstars, Missing Persons had been a cutesy New Wave band who for some reason
had a couple of major hits and had lost any club credibility, and I still
remember standing on line waiting to see the premiere of Rock and Roll High School where a person behind me was wearing a
t-shirt that read “Sit on my face, Stevie Nicks.”
But like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, the
US Festival as not just about the music, but about the corporate sponsorship,
which is well represented here.
Day 1 (Saturday,
May 28; “New Wave Day”):
The first band up is the Aussie rockers, the Divinyls.
This performance was around the time of their breakthrough album, and the one I
still consider their best, Desperate.
They usually ended their set in the early days with this, their first hit,
“Boys in Town” (years later it would become their opener). Singer Christine “Chrissy”
Amphlett (d. 2013; RIP) would later become better known for her sexually tinged
soft rock “I Touch Myself” and “Pleasure and Pain,” which is the equivalent of
Slade being criminally remembered for “My Oh My” and “Run Runaway.”In these nascent days, the Divinyls were a
powerhouse, and Christine was like a caged lioness in a schoolgirl uniform. Of
course, this is a great version of the song, but at the time, they all were. It
is obvious by the red streaks up and down her arms that she had already
finished the “Elsie,” another of my favorites, where she writes all over her
face, arms and legs with a red lipstick. I would have liked to have seen their
whole set, but who knows, maybe someday. The Divinyls are worth checking out.
Do you remember where you were when you heard that
Michael Hutchence, lead vocalist of (also) Aussie group INXS, had accidentally(?)
offed himself in a hotel room in 1997, made all the more newspaper fodder and
culture fixation by his baby-mama’s claim that he was involved in autoerotic
asphyxiation? Me neither. I was sorry to hear about him as much as I was about
Amy Winehouse or any other overpampered and excessing rock star, but I do have
to admit that INXS never meant a whit to me, and I don’t think I would know one
of their songs if I fell over it. The one here, “The One Thing,” sounds pretty
much like every other ‘80s song of the period with that same rhythm and hollow
sounding drums. Hutchence, himself, moves well along the stage and is startlingly
handsome, but it almost looks like he’s trying to channel Jim Morrison.
The English Beat was a fun band with their white ska,
much like the more famous Madness. The multi-racial Brit boys are constantly
moving around the huuuuuuge stage during their song, “Jeanette.” But I wonder
why they put interviewee Mark Goodman, one of the very first MTV VJs, talking
over them; unfortunately, this is only the start.
The Stray Cats were a decent post-rockabilly band (and acted
like assholes to me, but that’s another story), though nowhere near as exciting
as their New York rivals, the Rockats. “Rock This Town,” however, has
rightfully become a classic, as they do it here. Actually, it’s kind of strange
that this Americana music is sandwiched in among a bunch of British and Australian
groups.
Men at Work pretty much werea two-hit wonder in the States, and it’s
interesting that they only do one of them, “Who Can It Be Now,” with a recent
interview with lead singer Colin Hay talking over some of the instrumental
parts. Frustrating; while I’m not a big fan, I do respect them for some reason,
and I just think it’s insulting to the bands to overwhelm the music with talk,
whatever I think of them. They also do their lesser known “It’s a Mistake.
Of
course, the band I was looking forward to on this first day was the headliners,
the Clash. My question (yes, there is always a question) is, since everyone
knows that the heart and soul of the Clash was Joe Strummer (do you believe
there would be a Mick Jones wall in the East Village if it has been Jones
instead of Strummer to pass in 2002?), so why pick a Mick Jones song, even a
decent one like “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” I would have gone with “London
Calling” at the very least. Perhaps the producers were as stoned as Jones,
whose stories rival even Willie Nelson? This was, by the way, the last show
with Mick in the band.
The original line-up for the first day
was as follows: Divinyls, INXS, Wall of Voodoo, Oingo Boingo, the English Beat,
A Flock of Seagulls, Stray Cats, Men at Work, and the Clash.
Day 2 (Sunday, May 29; “Heavy Metal
Day”):
Even
at the time this event was happening, and in fact with many of the fests that
the Ramones skewered so well in their “Something to Believe In” video, such as
Live AID, when there are shots of the audience, a large amount of them are
going to be of either braless women wearing tight clothes, women in bikinis,
women sitting on the shoulders of their guys, and women with big…tracks of
land, and Monty Python so famously put it. Sexist? Oh, yeah. To be fair, there
are a few shots of buff shirtless men, but most males you see are drunk,
screaming, or being macho morons.And to
think that these people are now in their early 50s with kids around the same
age somehow makes me smile.
Everything
that made Judas Priest was in place that day, including Rob Halford’s riding
his ‘cycle and leathers onto the stage, his fey manner, and his four octave
range. Canadian Hall of Famers, Triumph, for some reason gets the largest
number of songs on this collection and is seen on this after JP, though they actually
played before. Germany’s Scorpions, post-Michael Schenker (wow, I remembered
how to spell it!), are also solid, of course, though they don’t do their metal
classic “Rock Me Like a Hurricane.” Oh, well. I noticed that the band incorporated
quite a few moves from the Who, such as the mic fling and the windmill.
All
three have overlapping themes (hence belonging to the same genre), such as sung
verses and screamed/screeched choruses, multiple guitar assaults, loyal fans,
and the ability to make me wonder what’s for supper. Yes, I did sit all the way
through the DVD of the day.
The original line-up for Day 2 was as
follows: Quiet Riot, Motley Crue, Triumph, Ozzy Osbourne, Judas Priest,
Scorpions, and Van Halen.
Day 3
(Monday, May 30; Rock Day):
Okay,
I realize this collection is a three-part special that was released in 2009,
but whoever did it, well, I would like to have a conversation. For example, the
first band up on the third day, which is more New Wavy than the official “New
Wave Day,” is Berlin. Sure, lots of synth and ‘80s aesthetic, but I like singer
Terri Nunn’s voice somewhat (that waiver was very popular then with the likes
of Chrissy Hynde, who also played this day, though unseen here). Berlin is
given very short shrift thanks to cutting the song to about a minute, and most
of that having Goodman talking over it. I agree with what he says, but the
producer could have put it between the songs, not over it. Plus, even when you
can hear the music, they show the same damn clips of people in the audience
(again, mostly women dressed provocatively for the time) that appear on the
other two days. C’mon…
Quarterflash
never even raised a blip to my peer group, to be honest. I think this is the
first time I can remember actually hearing them. And I don’t think I missed
anything. With Missing Persons, I can imagine people looking back and thinking,
WTF? How did they get any serious attention, really?
It’s
interesting to see U2 so early in their career before Bono and the Edge became
prisoners of their personas (wraparound sunglasses, and the like), to
paraphrase the wonderful Christine Lavin. And as big as U2 became, there is
still talking over them, actually having the balls to compare them to Elvis and
the Beatles. No wonder their egos became such monstrosities.
Wait,
What? They put a Triumph song from Day 2 in the middle of a collection of Day
3? Certainly they didn’t run out of music for the day. They clipped Berlin down
to nuthin’, and even talked over U2. What were they thinking, and is the
producer secretly Canadian? Surely the band didn’t return and wear the exact
same clothes.
Last
up is Stevie Nicks (though Bowie closed the night). I have none of her music in
my collection, but I can certainly see why she was so prominent on the bill.
Diminutive in size, with Mick Fleetwood pounding the drums behind her, she
barrels her way through her two songs, making it look easy. She definitely has
one of the most distinct voices in rock, even when she’s doing a disco-style
version of her solo hit, “Stand Back.”
The original mainstage line-up for Day
3 was as follows: Little Steven & the Disciples of Soul, Berlin,
Quarterflash, U2, Missing Persons, the Pretenders, Joe Walsh, Stevie Nicks,
David Bowie.
In
conclusion, there is a strong woman starting the festival and a strong woman
ending it, and lots of shots of audience bimbos inbetween. The success of the
three-day collection (the fourth “Country Day” is not shown) is getting so see
some acts that were soon to be gone, most of whom have vanished and others in
their nascentcy on their way to superstardom. The failure is due to the lack of
respect for the artists by narrating over them, or editing their work. Obviously,
what is needed is a box set of the entire festival. In the meanwhile, this will
have to do, but note that many of the clips here are quite available on
YouTube, but you didn’t get that from me.
Song List:
Divinyls: Boys in
Town The English Beat: Jeanette INXS: The One Thing Stray Cats: Rock
This Town Stray Cats: Double
Talkin’ Baby Men at Work: Who
Can It Be Now Men at Work: It’s a
Mistake The Clash: Should I
Stay or Should I Go Judas Priest: Breakin’
the Law Judas Priest: You
Got Another Thing Comin’ Triumph: Lay It on
the Line Triumph: Fight the
Good Fight Triumph: A World of
Fantasy Scorpions: The Zoo Scorpions: Can’t
Get Enough Berlin: Sex I’m A Quarterflash: Find
Another Fool U2: Sunday, Bloody,
Sunday U2: Electric Co. Missing Persons: Words Triumph: Magic
Power Stevie Nicks: Outside
the Rain Stevie Nicks: Stand
Back
Both of these films display the
influence of modern Western music on parts of Asia. While one focuses on a
singular style – albeit various subgenres – the other looks at a diversity of categories.
Either way, the scenes are DIY, and independent of the general culture, which
make it all the more interesting.
It comes as no surprise to me that this film has won a
whole stack of international film festival awards, from Cambridge and Alaska,
to New Jersey and beyond.
Filmed around the time when China was preparing for the Beijing
Olympics in 2008, Shaun Jefford gamely turns his attention to the various
styles of punk rock bands that formed in the city thanks in part to the
Internet, and from the Western presence of certain individuals who are
presented in the film.
One example is Michael Pettis, a professor of Fine Arts
at a university, who opened the D-22 Club, which is compared in the film to
CBGBs, and, I would add, Max’s Kansas City, which has as much to do the origin
of punk as CBs. But I digress…
There is also “Creative Genius” (film’s descriptor) Nevin
Domer, who books the shows and helps run China’s punk label, Maybe Mars Records,
which at the time of the recording had 40 releases.
While there are a number of bands there, such as Joyside,
Snapline and The Gar, the film focuses mainly on three or four of the
groups.They live in squalor in the “TZ”
(Thingzou) neighborhood which is much like the East Village, which also fueled
punk’s artistic nourishment.
Two of the bands that receive some coverage are P.K. 14,
a Talking Heads-style art punk group which we don’t really see much of, and Hedgehog,
who grabbed my attention and I wanted to see more. The main focus is on the
tiny female drummer, Shi Lu (Atom), the only women musician in any of the bands
in this film. She is definitely a power drummer in the trio, which has a ‘90s
Seattle sound. Definitely a band I would have enjoyed back in the day. I can imagine
them on a bill with the likes of The Mumps, Mong or Student Teachers.
The main focus, however, are on the bands Mi San Dao (or
Misandao, or MiSanDao; it is shown all ways) and Demerit. I will discuss
separately.
Mis San Dao, as far as I can tell, is Beijing’s only
skinhead/Oi band. They have the standard Doc Martins (now made in China rather
than England), suspenders, knee-high shorts, and bald heads. Lemmy and
Mötorhead is their godhead, represented in a bootleg video they watch
repeatedly.
The lead singer is a tough, wide dude, much like you
would expect a skinhead to be, in the classic sense. Obviously, he doesn’t go
for the white supremacist stuff, but leans more towards the nationalistic bent
(e.g., anti-Japanese, saying some complementary things about Hitler as an
artist, but not as a good leader because he made mistakes, such as with the Jews). We meet his wife, his two
pitbulls, and watch the band on stage during a short music festival tour of
Germany. Mainly what we see is the band drinking a lot of beer and cough syrup
with codeine. Oh, and some stuff from Mongolia that looks vile that makes the
director puke.
The other band, Demerit, looks like they could have come
out of England in 1980, with the mohawks and leather jackets. Their sound ranges
from overproduced Sum41/Green Day punk harmonies (lead singer is a fan of Good
Charlotte), to Black Flag style hardcore. We even meet their No. 1 fan (i.e.,
groupie), who is seems right out of the Nancy Spungen overzealous and
questionable character checklist.
The best parts of the documentary, of course, are when
the bands are performing, either on stage on in their practice studios (usually
a basement). What I find interesting is that all sing in English (subtitles are
usually supplied anyway). In typical punk form, it is protest music about the
Olympics, the government, religion and society as sheep. You know, punk rock.
But it also is more dangerous there: think Tiananmen Square plus the push to
cleanse for the international visitors attending the Olympics. The government
does not exactly smile down on social dissonance. As one of the musicians in Demerit
states, “We are not political, just about freedom.”
One aspect I found ironically amusing is that no matter
where you are, musicians have a tough time in similar ways. For example, for
Demerit’s record release show, they have no records due to a holdup at the
record factory. Punk rock!
Jefford is not merely a disembodied voice here, but is
actively seen talking to the bands, drinking various questionable liquids, and
even getting his head partially shaven against his wishes (Oi!). The cameraman,
Alexandre Kyriakidis, who we only see once, has a negative reaction to all the
consumption, and ends up in (the) hospital at one point. Punk rock!
If you’re wondering, yes, there are mosh pits and crowd
surfing (the latter mostly by Nevin). The audiences are small but enthusiastic,
and this documentary shows that punk is a movement that cannot be contained by
totalitarian control. They still need to open up more to women musicians, but
in general, it feels good to see the music that formed me help (hinder?) so
many others in cultures one would not expect.
This documentary is an excellent record of that, and I
would like to see a Part II, updating not only these bands, but where the scene
has progressed since (beyond the usual title cards at the end about the bands).
Okay, one more time, with feeling:punk
rawk!
Japan, once thought to take over the world through either
might or commerce, has become a cultural sponge that absorbs much of what the
West has to offer, from various generations. Yet, in many ways, because all
this comes together through the social media, especially over the past couple
of decades, things become new again by blending different facets into a synergy.
General Semantics states that time binding, or writing
things down because they change over time, sort of dissolves as various forms
of information arrive at the same time. This is especially interesting in art
and music. And that is the focus of this documentary, showing the culture scene
of a modern Tokyo that is overwhelmed by data.
In China, there are few markets for alternative bands,
but in Tokyo, a multitude of showcases present music every night, so the scene
is both nurturing and chaotic. The question, of course, is whether too much is
as bad as too little. Nothing stands out when there are so many choices. This
is discussed right off the bat here by W. David Marx, Chief Editor of Neohaponisme, Stan Eberlein, the owner
of the Intervall-Audio Record Label, Craig Exton, of TokyoGigGide.com, and Dr.
Jennifer Matsue, author of Making Music
in Japan’s Underground (among others), who are Westerners. I realize this
documentary is for the Western market, but still… At least the bands are
Japanese.
Due to the large number of groups, the clubs there have
the dreaded Noruma system, or pay-to-play,
where a band has to sell a certain amount of tickets themselves, or pay the
difference (which could be in the hundreds of dollars). They tried that in New
York (some places still do this), but thanks to social media, some clubs became
pariahs and bands would not play there, forcing them out.
A few musicians wisely posit that because rock music
originated in the West, of course there are going to be Western influences. No
doubt. But all music goes through a gatekeeping filter that changes and morphs
the sound, unless it is a copy band. Any original written music is bound to be
affected, though. There is definitely a higher use of technology in music there,
from bizarre instruments (such as employed by Makoto Ohiro) to multi-media
shows, and a whole lot of electronica (e.g., Sexy Synthesizer), even in jazz.
There are so many bands and varied styles shown here,
many of which I find, well, annoying, such as rock/rap, electronica, and modern
pop, so I’m going to discuss some of the ones I like, rather than all of them.
First there’s Nu Clear Classmate. This is a guy on electric guitar while his
female partner screams lyrics and plays an electronic keyboard in front of
projected images. It’s wild and chaotic.
DMBQ are a heavy metal outfit that fits more into the leather
jacket mode rather than a hair band (thankfully). They are loud and rhythmic,
with a crashing guitar. They seem like a fun headbanging band. The Zoobombs are
sort of a poppier version of the Heartbreakers (Thunders/Lure, certainly not
Petty).
Sajjanu is an avant-garde guitar-based trio that reminds
me of Tom Verlaine and Television, with fits of starts and stops and lots of
dissonance. My favorite band name presented
here was My Pal Foot Foot, after the Shaggs song (though I don’t remember
seeing a clip of them actually playing).
There is definitely a greater mix of genders in these
bands than in the West or in China, which is encouraging.
We see many groups, including videos and playing live. There
seems little focus as we are shown band after band, and don’t really learn much
about them as people, even when we see them at home or in the studio. I realize
the filmmakers are trying to be a bit comprehensive, but just as there are too
many bands for a number of them to become successful, similarly we set a
smattering of music and musicians, and it’s hard to get a clear picture.
There are lots of interesting comments how the music is
effected by and absorbed into the culture in ways most of Asia could never even
imagine, but since we do not get to know any of these people, the film is guilty
of being exactly what it discusses in the first act, about oversaturation and
lack of personality. That is a shame.
Many times while the bands are heard, we see street
scenes of traffic, crowded sidewalks or buildings, sometimes outside of a moving
car, or out the front window of a train, reminiscent of Koyaanisquati. This gets tiring really fast
Ultimately, while this documentary shows various ways
Tokyo has become a music city, it fails by trying to do too much in its time
frame. It would have been better to focus on a few bands so we can get to know
them, and let some of the others be more peripheral.
Earlier this year I did an interview with keyboardist Barry Goldberg for a British blues magazine that then elected not to publish it. Rather than see it disappear into the void I'm presenting it here for anyone who's interested. Goldberg was best known as the keyboardist in Michael Bloomfield's Electric Flag. He also played with Dylan at the 1965 game-changing Newport gig and has done a ton of other stuff. At the time I interviewed him he had just finished recording a new blues album with Stephen Stills and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. That has since come out (under the name the Rides) and the band did tour, but at the time I had not yet heard the record.
JT: How did you come to record a blues album with Stephen Stills and Kenny Wayne Shepherd?
BG: My friend Elliot Roberts, Stephen and Neil’s manager, said, “Stephen said he would like to do a blues-oriented record. Why don’t you guys get together?” We knew each other a long time ago from doing the Super Session album. We’ve seen each other from time to time but we weren’t really that close. I contacted him and they set up a writing session for Stephen and me to at Stephen’s house. We were just hanging out and he started playing some licks on the guitar and it blew me away. I forgot what a great guitar player he was. Then he started singing and one thing led to another and the vibe carried itself to a blues-rock kind of feeling. We were fooling around with some grooves and I had a couple of things in mind. My idea, after I heard the great guitar playing, was to make the vibe guitar-oriented with a lot of room for him to play soulful licks and sing as well. We instantly connected. It was like finding a new soul brother. We didn’t live far from each other and we wrote two or three things together and then the idea was not just to have a younger guitar player but a really hot young guy who can really play. A few guys were mentioned—John Mayer was one of them and Jonny Lang and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Kenny’s always been one of my favorite young guys so he came in and all three of us started writing together at Stephen’s studio with the idea not just of writing songs together but getting ready to do an album together. The original concept was a jam kind of thing but then Kenny came up with some great grooves, Kenny came up with some lyrics and I came up with some hooks. The three of us were like a special force. We got along great together. It wasn’t a forced project where you put people together that had nothing in common. We all had our roots that were deep into the blues and rock and roll, and it was a natural transition for the three of us and it started flowing. We wrote five or six songs together, four of which the three of us wrote on the album. It transcended into something more than just a jam record.
JT: Stephen said you were originally going to call it Super Session 2.
BG: That was the original idea. It was Bill Bentley’s idea but for whatever reason we weren’t allowed to use that name. The first song that Stephen and I wrote together was called “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” and Kenny Wayne said, “Why don’t you just call the album Can’t Get Enough?” Stephen’s sounding like Joe Cocker. His singing is phenomenal from the first song on. It’s a whole other thing. And his guitar playing—Kenny Wayne brought out the energy from both of us. We needed that young guy to come along and bring the electricity.
Who is the rhythm section on the record?
BG: Kenny Wayne’s drummer, Chris Layton, who played with Stevie Ray—Kenny said, “We’ve gotta send for him.” At first he couldn’t make it but the right things took place and he came in. He’s an unbelievable shuffle and blues and rock and roll drummer. Then Stephen chose the bass player, Kevin McCormick from Crosby, Stills and Nash. They each felt really comfortable with the choice of the other two guys and then Luis Conte was brought in for percussion. He’s phenomenal; he’s a Cuban guy. We went to the studio and I wouldn’t say it was intense but the energy demanded itself to get to another level. There was no fooling around; it was business. The grooves came out—I don’t even know if there are any second or third takes. It just happened in the studio—EastWest Studios on Sunset. The producer, Jerry Harrison, was supervising—he worked with Kenny Wayne before—and this guy E.T. [Eric Thorngren], who does a lot of Kenny Wayne’s records, was the engineer. I was happy. I wouldn’t say I’ve been in the minor leagues but I haven’t been in the major leagues for a while, in an A studio. The luxury of that, and the luxury of Stephen’s guys and Kenny’s guys tuning my piano and bringing this over and “What do you need?’ is something I haven’t had for a long time. That was wonderful for me.
JT: Are you playing organ or just piano?
BG: I’m playing B3 and piano.
JT: Are there any cover songs?
BG: Jerry had an idea to bring in Iggy Pop’s “Search and Destroy.” Stephen and I couldn’t relate to it but Kenny Wayne thought it was a great idea. As soon as we got into it, the young kids in the studio—Stephen’s daughter and Elliot’s son—went crazy. So Stephen and I looked at each other and said, “Yeah, OK.” Then Stephen came in one day and said, “I want to do this song.” And it was “Rockin’ in the Free World.” He said, “I want to do this for Neil.” Wow! It’s really a great version of the song. So it’s very diversified. But it all fit. There’s a couple of traditional blues songs on there and the songs that we wrote. Kenny Wayne’s singing, Stephen’s singing. It’s just a fun record, a really cool record. The name of the band is the Rides because Kenny and Stephen are into cars. Gary Burden designed the album cover. He does all the Eagles and Crosby, Stills and Nash and Neil’s stuff.
JT: Are you going to tour behind it?
BG: They said something about going out for three weeks in August, after Stephen is done with Crosby, Stills and Nash.
JT: You’re also involved in a new documentary called Born in Chicago. What is the story behind that?
BG: I was involved in producing it. That was almost five years of trying to bring that story of the guys from Chicago—who really didn’t get the recognition for what they contributing to the rock and roll arena. They were just as important as the English guys in bringing the blues to rock and roll. That’s the story of how we learned first-hand; being from Chicago it was just a few miles away from us. We could go as teenagers and a group of us—Butterfield, Bloomfield, myself, Nick Gravenites, Harvey Mandel—you went to the South Side and the West Side to discover first-hand from the masters: Wolf and Muddy. And in reverence and respect and dedication it wasn’t at all considered a ripoff, it was out of love.
JT: You played with Muddy and Wolf.
BG: Oh yeah. We were like freaks at first, these young white kids. They were so nice to us. Whatever we needed to know about the music, about them—they became an extended family. They took us in and we played alongside them. When Otis Spann wanted to take a break he called me and of course Muddy noticed that it wasn’t Otis Spann on piano. But eventually, after months, I did get it right to where it didn’t bother him that I was playing. We just learned so much from them and we gave it back when we played the Fillmore and Michael introduced Muddy and B.B. King to Bill Graham. It was in reverence, which we carry with us today in our band Chicago Blues Reunion. What we’re trying to accomplish with this documentary is to bring more of an awareness to who we were and what we did, us and Nick Gravenites and Janis Joplin. And Dylan—when we played at Newport it was Sam Lay and Michael and myself. Even the sessions with Mitch Ryder, “Devil With a Blue Dress On,” there’s blues influence in my licks that I play on that record. it was a number one pop record but it couldn’t have happened without he Chicago blues.
JT: What drew you to the blues originally?
BG: We all came from different backgrounds. Michael was a wealthy kid from the suburbs. I had lost my father and the family lost all our money and I was not doing well after my father died. I became sort of a delinquent, a wayward child looking for something different. Rock and roll was always there—Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Fats Domino, Buddy Holly. Fooling around with the dial sounds like a cliché but I had a little radio and I tell the story in the movie and it’s true, that I found this station at the end of the dial, WGES, and this show called “Jam with Sam.” It was on at midnight and he created another world for me, with the reverb, and then Wolf came on. It was like supernatural, surreal. I’m in my bedroom and all of a sudden, what is this music? Jimmy Reed! It created things inside of me. I got a great feeling from rock and roll and the Spector records but this was something else. This was a mystical kind of voodoo. I met Michael in high school and we had rival bands competing for sweet 16 parties. That was the cool gig because there were no other guys there. He said, “You should come down with m to the South Side or the West Side. I’ve been going down there and striking up relationships with Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy.” So I did one time. We went to Silvio’s and there it was, another world. We played “Killin’ Floor” with Howlin’ Wolf, we met Muddy. I sat in with Otis Rush. They were so nice and took us in like family. My family wasn’t there for me so in a way they were my uncles. We didn’t even realize how great it was learning from the greatest poets and painters of that era. That would never happen again but it was happening in Chicago. Once you got it, you got it. Wolf told me that he got it from Robert Johnson and he said, “You better have it ’cause you playing with me now.” At first it was a joke—we were like a novelty, little white boys. They loved it because more white people would come in and spend money. Then the blues moved to the North Side, when Old Town was like the Village in new York—a lot of folk singers. Michael was doing an emcee thing at one of the folk clubs, bringing in Big Joe Williams, Sunnyland Slim, Hammie Nixon, and introducing them to the college kids. It was a freaky scene. Then Butterfield started playing at this club called Big John’s. they were an interracial band, with Sam Lay and Jerome Arnold and Butterfield and Elvin Bishop. It was a black and white joint; there was no color; it was about the music and about people that loved the music. People from Second City came in—David Steinberg. Ken Nordine came in, pool hustlers. Wires hanging from the ceiling. And all this time, J.B. Lenoir, Otis Rush, Muddy Waters, James Cotton, Buddy Guy—they all came in to play along with Butterfield. Then Steve Miller and I had a band that followed Butterfield at the Big John’s club, the Goldberg-Miller Blues Band. We also had a black drummer—not intentionally, it just happened.
JT: Fast forwarding a little bit, what do you remember about Newport ’65, playing with Dylan? Did you have any clue what he had in mind?
BG: Not at all. When we did that we opened it up for everyone to do and it wasn’t easy. Butterfield asked me to play with him and Michael at Newport. We all got in the car and drove. We didn’t really get out of Chicago that much so this was a big adventure. We went to Newport and when we got there, Paul Rothchild, who was Butterfield’s producer, said, “I don’t hear a keyboard with the band at all,” without even hearing me. So Paul said, “Sorry, man, but our producer said that you can’t play with us.” So I was incredibly bummed. I was there alone in a strange place. The next night there was this big party and Michael had played a few months earlier on Dylan’s record “Like a Rolling Stone” in New York. Bob said, “I don’t know if my keyboard player was gonna show”—that was Al Kooper—“and I don’t know what to do.” Michael said, “This is my friend Barry Goldberg.” Bob said, “Would you like to play with me tomorrow night?” We rehearsed the next afternoon and people were not liking the electric music—Peter Yarrow and Pete Seeger were giving us dirty looks. So we went on and Bob was black leather and the whole deal and Michael was just blasting away. We went into “Maggie’s Farm” and we did another song and then “Like a Rolling Stone.” I felt that we were definitely all on a mission. It was something new. Al Kooper did show up and there were two pianos, but on “Like a Rolling Stone” Jerome Arnold couldn’t get the changes so Al played bass. I’ve felt, and Sam Lay felt, that something different was happening, something great. When you do something different, most of the time people aren’t going to accept it. This was so different for these people, that when we were done playing “Like a Rolling Stone” I felt so energized on another level—it was like the magic from Dylan transferred into me and to this day I carry that.
JT: Were people definitely booing?
BG: Some people booed and some people liked it and applauded.
JT: How did the Electric Flag come together?
BG: I was playing in New York, doing the Mitch Ryder stuff, and Michael had this concept that he came to me with. I was doing some session work in New York and he said, “I want to start an American music band,” with all different elements of American music: Stax, R&B. He knew I knew about Percy Sledge and R&B and the Phil Spector sound. He covered the blues. He said, “I want to have a horn section so we can do ‘Try a Little Tenderness’ and ‘Higher and Higher,’ and I want you to help me put it together. We decided we were gonna use Harvey Brooks, who was the premier session bass player in New York. We didn’t think he’d ever leave but he jumped at the chance. Then we went to the show where Mitch was playing, the Murray the K show, and the drummer was Buddy Miles. Michael and I looked at each other and there’s this guy who was rocking the whole theater to “Midnight Hour.” We took Buddy back to the Albert Hotel, where Michael and I always roomed together—it was a real funky, filthy Village hotel. We bought like four boxes of Oreo cookies. We laid Buddy down on the bed and kept dropping cookies in his mouth. After the fourth box and telling him he could meet all the flower children girl groupies in San Francisco, which I knew nothing about, and he could run the city, Buddy said OK and Pickett was not happy about it. For a year he was threatening us. But that was the nucleus. Nick Gravenites was already in San Francisco looking for a place for us to start rehearsing. We all got there and Susan, Michael’s wife, was sort of like the den mother, the house mother. She took care of us. The first warmup gig was at the Fillmore West. The next gig was Monterey Pop.
JT: What was your take on Monterey?
BG: That was another moment where I felt that something exhilarating was happening in my life. I’d never seen so many people, like 50,000. I was hanging out with guys like Brian Jones and meeting the Mamas and the Papas. I though we really came through, having the horn section and having Buddy. People had never seen anything like that. Only to be blown away by Otis Redding. He was, to me, the greatest thing I’d ever seen. We didn’t even know if the flower children would understand what he was doing but they really did. Soul is a universal thing and when he came out with Cropper, oh my God. I remember Ravi Shankar, I remember Otis Redding and Jimi Hendrix. Those were the highlights for me.
JT: Of all the solo records you’ve done, do you have a favorite?
BG: Probably Stand Back! with Charlie Musselwhite. That’s one of my favorite records, and a record I produced called Blue Night by Percy Sledge. The guitar section was Bobby Womack, Steve Cropper and Mick Taylor. We got the Soul Album of the Year award and W.C. handy and Grammy nominations. Percy has always been my favorite R&B singer so to get to work with him in the studio was the most beautiful experience.
JT: What is your feeling on the blues today?
BG: There’s guys that are carrying on the tradition. It’ll never happen in Chicago like it did or anywhere else but it’ll never die. You can still hear the influence today of the Chicago blues. Not only New Orleans blues but Chicago blues. Guys like Gary Clark Jr. and Robert Cray and Kenny Wayne—he lives for the blues. To talk blues with a 34-year-old kid and there are kids coming up that are younger than that, hopefully the film will tie it all in and the young kids will hear it. That’s another point of this film is to educate to the kids how this whole thing evolved and how important it was. Maybe some of them will listen and go back and say, “What is this?” like we did. Because it’s magical.
Currently living in Saskatoon (email at RBF55@msn.com for address). From 1977-88, I used to publish a print version of a music magazine in New York called FFanzeen, which dealt with the wide-ranging independent music scene. I also photographed many bands from the period (and since). Now I write this blog. And the beat goes on.
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