Chinas Comidas: An Inside Look – Rock’n’Roll in Washington State [1980]

Text by Mark Wheaton / FFanzeen fanzine, 1980
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

This self-interview was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #4, dated May/June 1980, page 21. It was written by Mark Wheaton, the keyboard player of the Seattle-based band Chinas Comidas.

Part of what makes this article of added importance is what would explode in Seattle a decade after this article, because the focus on the city tends to start in the early 1990s, but this plainly shows that punk was not something that began with Nirvana, or even Mother Love Bone, or any other grunge band. It was alive and well for quite a period before “punk broke.”

Chinas Comidas, whose name is Mexican slang for “Chinese Food,” moved to Los Angeles in 1980, as stated at the end of this article, and then broke up soon after. – RBF, 2015

Let’s be upfront here: It’s true I’m a member of Chinas Comidas. But I’m also a fan of Chinas Comidas, and have been long before I joined the band. The current line-up includes: Chinas [aka Cynthia Genser – rbf, 2015], vocals; Rich Riggins, guitar; Brock [Wheaton, Mark’s brother – rbf, 2015], drums; Dag Midtskog, bass; and myself, keyboards. We’ve been together, as such, for a little over a year. Chinas Comidas actually started around 1976 and has gone through several personnel and style changes since then. The content and intent has been refined, but basically has remained the same.

Originally, Chinas herself would sing with a loose-knit group, who also backed Barry Minkler, known as Red Dress. This Chinas-Red Dress band existed on and off through 1977. Brock joined the band in the Spring of 1977, originally as a last minute fill-in. By 1978, Chinas Comidas and Red Dress had become two separate groups. Chinas Comidas started to take a “rock” direction. I began to do the sound for Chinas Comidas in 1978. At the end of that Summer, the band began to establish a local reputation and had even ventured to San Francisco’s Mabuhay Gardens. The group disbanded and re-organized that Fall. It was during this time that the first EP was recorded. Rich played guitar and overdubbed the bass part, and a keyboard player came in and did those parts. At the end of the session, we decided that I should play the keyboards; so I got a piano and synthesizer and began to learn how to play.

Dag was, at this time, in a band called Violent World. Violent World included Electra-Blue, an amazing person who had previously been in Seattle’s only true heavy metal group. Mondo Band. Violent World was much more punk. Unfortunately, the band fell apart and I asked Dag to come to an audition. I was working at a used record store and Dag worked across the street at a florist shop. After a few rehearsals, we had developed a very tight, rocking sound.

Our first gig was New Year’s Eve, December 31, 1978. Actually, it was 3:00 AM, January 1, 1979. It was an intense, frantic show. Following that debut at what was to become less than a year later The Showbox Theatre (a New Wave showcase), we played at a Country tavern called The Rainbow. We opened for the Ramones. This was followed by a show with Red Dress at a new performance place called WashingtonHall, one of those echo chambers where nothing can really be done to get a good sound. It was like the first show where we really felt like a band. A local critic saw fit to review the show and he blasted us mercilessly. He even confused us with Red Dress, whom he hadn’t even seen. Our local supporters returned the blast with a flood of irate letters and even some editorial comments in other rival papers.

As yet, Chinas Comidas had not really played for the younger, punk crowd, most of who thought we were some kind of folk-group or something.

We recorded our second record, which was also our first with the current line-up. While we were waiting for the test pressing to come back, we did a show with the Dils and D.O.A. It was very well attended and as the punk crowd then found out, we weren’t a folk act.

Shortly after the Dils show, we went to New York. We arrived with no gigs and very little money, ending up three weeks later having played at Hurrah’s and Tier3, and in Philadelphia with the Dead Kennedys. We also recorded two new songs at Soundmixer, on Broadway. It was a quick session, but we got “Sweeter Than Ever” and “Criminal Cop” finished, the later sung by Rich.

Returning to Seattle, we finally released “Snaps” b/w “For the Rich,” and played a few club gigs around town, including a performance at the And/or Art Gallery with Red Dress.  

In late October, Chinas Comidas ventured south to L.A., where we played with the Germs, at the Hong Kong on Halloween. We stayed in L.A. four weeks, played the Hong Kong three times and the Whiskey once.

Upon returning to Seattle, we played a gig with L.A. performance artist Johanna Went at the Roscoe Louis Gallery. Chinas went to New York for a short visit and in her absence we did a gig without her as an Exquisite Corpse (our label) artist, opening for Ultravox, at the 800 seat Showbox Theatre.

In February, we returned to L.A. for an extended visit.

The Music Scene in Washington State According to Mark:

• 1973-75: Tomata (Screamers); Whizz Kids
• 1976: Chinas Comidas; Fruitland Famine Band; Meyce; Mondo Bando; Red Dress; Telepaths; Tupperwares; Uncle Cookie
• 1977: Jim Basnight; Chinas Comidas; Feelings; Fruitland Famine Band; Knobs; Lewd; Mondo Bando; Red Dress; Telepaths; Uncle Cookie
• 1978: Chinas Comidas, Cheaters; The Enemy; Features; Feelings; The Girls; Henry Boy; Lewd; Loud Ties; Moberleys; The Radios; Red Dress; Telepaths; Violent World
• 1979: Blackouts; Cheaters; Chinas Comidas; Citizen Sane; The Cowboys; The Debbies; The Enemy; Frazz; The Girls; Heaters; Jitters; Lewd; Little Koreas; Macs Band; Mad Shadows; Moberleys; Red Dress; Shivers; The Spell; Student Nurse.

Local Records:

• Uncle Cookie: “Hamburger” b/w “Kidnapped,” “Little Orange Babies” – 45
• Jim Basnight: “Live in the Sun” b/w “She Got Fucked,” “Precedent” – 45
• Telepaths: “Frozen Darling” b/w “I Must Perform,” “Telepaths” – EP
• Chinas Comidas: “Peasant/Slave,” “Lover/Lover” b/w “”Disease,” “Snake in the Sun” – EP
• Clone: “Jacuzzi Fluzzi” b/w “Afterthought,” “Run Right Through You” – 45
• Ian Fisher (Cowboys): “Girls Like That” b/w “Riot” – 45
• Pink Chunk: “Louie, Louie” b/w “Kitchen Cantata” – 45
• Accident: “Kill the BeeGees” b/w “True Detective,” “Nothrees” – 45
• The Enemy: “I Need An Enemy” b/w “Want Me,” “King Tut.” – 45
• The Lewd: “Kill Yourself” b/w “Trash Can Baby,” “Pay or Die” – 45
• Student Nurse: “Lies” b/w “Snow,” “Disco Dog” - 45
• Snots: “So Long to the ‘60s,” “New York Loveletter” b/w “It’s Later Than You Think,” “Edge City” – EP
• Feelings: Destroy Destruction – LP
• Chinas Comidas: “Snaps” b/w “For the Rich” – 45
• Chinas Comidas – “Peasant/Slave” b/w “Lover/Lover” – 45

Upcoming releases threatened: Blackouts; Moberleys; Jitters

Of course, this overview ignores or forgets numerous commercial Tavern groups, country rock, etc.; many have records available either locally or nationally.

 

DVD Review: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

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

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

Executive Producers: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media
165 minutes, 2013 / 2014
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.mvdvisual.com

I was wondering what should be the next DVD I would review. There is a backlog, so I have quite a few from which to choose. While out at the supermarket, as I pondered, weak and weary over a quaint and curious walking through the door, while I nodded, even though shopping, suddenly there came a sound over the PA. It was “Our House,” by Crosby, Stills and Nash (CSN). I took that as a signal that Fifty By Four was next. I had avoided it, honestly more due to its length of nearly three hours, so I decided to delve in and review that, and then watch it…er…nevermore.

Growing up, with the possible exception of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” and “Ohio,” CSNand/orY were pretty peripheral to me, even though they were one of my older brother’s favorites. By the time the late 1960s came around, I had essentially stopped listening to the radio much, and focused more on film and television for entertainment. When they reunited on Live Aid in 1985, their set had some wincingly off-key harmonies. It wasn’t until the Ramones came along that I was lulled back into music. The catalog of CSNY was not really on my menu then either, as the punk revolution took me over. It wasn’t until someone gave me a CSN/CSNY Greatest Hits CD during the late 1990s that I started to enjoy more of their material, though a lot of it still leaves me scratching my head. And now, here we are.

Chrome Dreams (and their subsidiaries, such as Sexy Intellectual, Prism, and Pride) is a British company that does extremely detailed histories of both British and American bands or singers, including Clapton, Dylan, Zappa, the Stones and the Beatles. I have seen a few Neil Young bios by them before, and even reviewed a couple, but this is the first one I’ve seen for the whole megillah (though I know there are others from them).

CSNY fans tend to run towards the rabid, much like the Dead’s, so there is a question of who is going to watch this. For the die-hard fan, at least the first 2 hours are probably not going to be anything you don’t already know. If you’re more of a casual fan and are into music history, such as me, well, this is ideal (hell, I even read Slash’s annoying autobiography).

The DVD starts in the Laurel Canyon of Los Angeles during the mid-‘60s, with David Crosby in the Byrds, Stephen Stills and Neil Young in Buffalo Springfield, and Graham Nash in the Hollies over in the U. of K. It was the time just before the hippie revolution and the counterculture was on the cusp beyond that. It was the rise of the singer-songwriter (as opposed to the folkie, which would overlap) essentially begun the day Dylan went electric (okay, Dylan is credited here, but that last part isn’t in the documentary, but is my theory, which is mine, too).

Then, as now and always in any singular scene, bands were incestuous, and members often flow from one band to the next. Young quit Springfield, Crosby is brought in after the Monterey Pop Fest (but not before he discovers Joni Mitchell), and Nash is bored by the stuffy Brit band and wants to go all Carnaby Street. He hooks up with them and Crosby, Still and Nash are sprung. One might consider this one of the first supergroups, and that’s even before Young kinda joins the fold.



CSNY then

In a hippy dippy dopey (pot reference, FYI) idealistic mentality, they decide they are not a band, but will creatively shack up as individual singer-songwriters who perform together. But like common-law marriages, things start to get complex, especially when Stills comes out as macho Alpha Male, taking the word control of the control room literally. He ends up playing most of the instruments on their first album, Crosby, Stills and Nash (1969). By the time they start to tour, Crosby and Nash have no idea how to play the material and they get some back-up, including drummer Dallas Taylor and ex-Motown bassist, Greg Reeves. Soon, they are joined by Young (after his two failed solo albums), also an Alpha. Now the non-band is a band (see: complicated).

Over the next few decades, they would dance around each other, alternatively quitting, firing, rehiring each other due to (among other reasons) Crosby’s drug use (possibly due in part to the pain of losing his girlfriend, Christine Hinton, in a car crash), Nash and Rita Coolidge developing a relationship after she and Stills had a “tryst” (as it is described on the DVD; same thing happened with Joey and Johnny Ramone a decade later), and more ridiculously, the macho ego posturing of Stills and Young. It seems the only time they actually all worked together well was during periods of political outrage, such as the post-Kent State shooting “Ohio,” which pretty much became the anthem for the unrest in the period.

Again, most of their catalog and history are well known and documented through the late 1960s and ‘70s. The DVD especially became interesting in the last hour as the documentary starts focusing on the later part of their career, from the 1980s on, as I know so little about this period, as I was way too involved in the whole first wave punk movement to give a care about CSN(Y). Yet, even with that, I noticed that there was no mention of the media attention of Y’s joining CSN at the abovementioned Live Aid in ’85.

I know I talk about this every time I review one of Chrome Dream’s releases, but here ya go: This label has an easily identifiable, nearly auteur way of presenting their stories (usually produced by Rob Johnstone). Usually, it’s Tom Arnold doing the narration (he does a great job), as we see lots of photos, clips and interviews. The clips are a mixture of live in-concert, television performances, music videos and occasionally record cuts. Some of them are easily accessible, and some are quite rare, but in nearly all cases, they almost never last more than 20 seconds before Arnold begins talking. In some ways this is annoying because you want to hear the song, but on the other, well, this is already almost 3 hours, and it would have been more than double that if the full clips were shown. I’d like to see them include a second disc that just includes the full musical segments.



CSNY now

As for the interviews, as I’ve whined about before, there are all males talking, like women were only peripheral. The band’s momentum constantly changed due to women, including July Collins, who is never mentioned even though one of their earliest hits, “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” is about Stills’ relationship with her.

That being said, this is one of the better selections of interviews I’ve seen for one of this label’s releases. Sure, there is still the writers who give us second-hand stories and opinions (and they didn’t include the excellent Jeff Tamarkin or Richie Unterberger, both of whom write extensively on this period), but there is a large number of people who were actually there¸ giving first-hand anecdotes, rather than stories. All four of CSNY are represented, though it is via previous television interview clips through the years. However, their producers, studio engineers, and band members (yes, I’m using the term “band” and not “collective”) are interviewed specifically for this release. There are, in part, four drummers (Dallas Taylor, Joe Vitale, Joe Lala, Chad Cromwell) and three bassists (Greg Reeves, Calvin “Fuzzy” Samuel, George “Chocolate” Perry) represented, some telling what it was like in the studio, or on tour. As much as I like the writers, even those who saw the band live, it’s the ones who were in the trenches (an appropriate word considering all the conflicts within the performers) that mean more to me.

The nicest thing about this is that so many stories about ‘60s musician end with an untimely demise, but as of this review all members of CSN and Y are still kickin’ and performing – and getting somewhat along. They finally realized they “gotta get down to it.”

The extras are scarce but interesting. Other than some text info about the interviewees and a link to see more online, there is a 14+-minute short titled “Joe Vitale: The American Dream Sessions.” The personable drummer tells about recording the album at Young’s ranch in 1988.

 

Review: Color Me Obsessed – A Film About the Replacements

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

Color Me Obsessed – A Film About the Replacements

Written and directed by Gorman Bechard
What Were We Thinking / MVD Visual
123 minutes: 2 discs, 2011 / 2012
www.colormeobsessed.com
www.mvdvisual.com

Only once have I had the honor of seeing the Replacements live. Thanks to writer and music historian (and friend) Nancy Neon Foster, we managed to get tickets to see them play at Madison Square Garden in 1991, opening up for Elvis Costello. While we didn’t have nose-bleed seats, weren’t close either, at an almost 90-degree angle from the stage. They put on a good show.

The Replacement rose in Minneapolis around the same time as Husker Du in the early 1980s, and while there was a Beatles/Rolling Stones rivalry between the two bands (which is which depends on your point of view), there is no question that these two groups were the most influential bands to rise out of that punk scene. Husker Du were a bit more driven towards success even with the internal pressures within the band, but the Replacements were a complete time bomb waiting for the right moment to both explode and implode. As the director, Gorman Bechard says correctly in his commentary track, the record companies that signed the Replacements should not have been surprised when the Replacements showed up. In other words, they were volatile, played by their own rules, and had absolutely no respect for any kind of authority, record company or otherwise.

Of course, that is part of what made them such an amazing musical force, whose impact is felt to this day, even after all these years, which includes newbies on the scene who don’t realize that their favorite band was influenced by them. Same is true for Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, or the New York Dolls. This is evidenced, in part, by the sheer number of musicians interviewed for this doc.

While we are at it, let’s talk about the interviews in this film. There are probably about a hundred people gushing and dishing about the band, including some big name musicians, actors, and fans. The musical who’s who is quite stunning, including Tommy Erdeli (aka Ramone, who produced one of their albums), two members of rival Husker Du (except Mould, natch), three members of the GooGoo Dolls from Buffalo (including Robby Goo), Archers of Loaf (with whom Bechard has also done a live film to be reviewed at some point here), Titus Andronicus, the Decemberists, the underrated Babes in Toyland, etc. For writers, the list includes Legs McNeil, Jack Rabid, and the late Robert Christgau. From the big and small screen, there’s (among others) George Wendt from Cheers and, of all people, Tom Arnold, who apparently is a huge fan of the band and has some great stories to tell. What I really like is that no one tells second hand stories, like “At that moment Paul was feeling like…” which really annoys me, but rather they tell their own experiences, or their interpretation of things.

With rare exception, all of the interviews are in short bytes. It’s unusual for any clip to last more than 30 seconds, so for most of the two-hour running time, it’s bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-etc. It’s a bit whiplash inducing, but happily Bechard puts in the captions of who is who quite often, so you’re not thinking, who is that?, which is another peeve of mine in documentaries. There is a nice touch where in many cases you see photos of the interviewee from the ‘80s.

Essentially, this is more of an oral history than just a bio of the band, which is actually what makes it even more interesting, because you definitely get more than one side of a story (and sometimes contradictory), and some questionable information, such as one guy claiming that he is the inspiration for the name of the Replacement’s album Tim. Could be true, just no way to verify it. But that’s what oral histories are all about, and also why the subtitle of the film is “The potentially true story of the last best band.”

Who isn’t interviewed? Well, any member of the Replacements. In his commentary, the director explains quite clearly that since the band were rule breakers, this documentary would do be same, therefore there is purposefully no member of the band in it whatsoever other than still photos, and no music, live or from the records, only the stories and the fans. Besides, if you’re obsessed with the band and viewing this, you’d probably know it anyway. For the casual or curious, their music is available elsewhere. At a running time of just a bit over two hours, it’s probably better it was left out because of the amount of time it would have extended the film. As it was, it was cut down from an original 3-hour first edit, and that from 250 hours of interviews.

Another nice touch is the text included sporadically throughout the film, such as facts about the albums (how many units sold of a particular record as compared to the top selling one of that year) including song list, what was happening with the band playing at particular shows, why the band’s nickname is the ‘Mats, and like that. It’s actually the closest to “fact” in the whole piece. Sometimes it interferes with the talking, and I ran it back so I could grasp both, but I wouldn’t change it.

Over the dozen years they were a viable band, the quartet were known for their excesses, be it great or dreadful shows, depending on the night you saw them (the Heartbreakers, a band I saw often, could be that way as well). Substances, such as booze – and lots of it – were also mixed into the equation. That they were banned from Saturday Night Live after practically destroying their dressing room in a drunken haze is an example of that.

Now for some truth: yeah, I really like the Replacements, but I’m not obsessed with the band. There is way more on this double-DVD set then I really want to watch (I can hear Gorman in my head saying, “You’re no fuckin’ fan!”). I sat through the entire first disk, which consists of the film (2 hours), an excellent commentary by Bechard (2 hours), an interesting commentary by producer Jan Radder about getting the interviews and editing them together (1 hour), and a 19 Deleted Scenes collection that is definitely worth watching (over 1 hour). The second disc, which I didn’t watch, is a Behind the Scenes with Bechard and producer Hansi Oppenheimer, which are two separate segments (over 1 hour), three complete interviews of Grant Hart of Husker Du, Robert Christgau, and Greg Kot and Jim DeRogatis (over 3 hours), and four completely individualized trailers (5+ minutes).

That’s nearly 11 hours, not counting the desire to replay all their records. I’ve happily put in my 6, but I’m done. As I said, I like the band, and I like this documentary, but I’m not obsessed enough, I guess. Could be good for a cold, shut-in weekend. You won’t be sorry.

 

X O X: We Had a Date [1980]

Text by Doris Kiely © FFanzeen, 1980
Introductory text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015

I have never seen X play live, I’m sorry to say. Yeah, I saw them a number of times performing on TV on shows like Dick Clark’s American Bandstand and a couple of those late-night in concert kinds of shows, but never when I was in the same room.

Early on, I gravitated towards Excene Cervenka’s voice, as the female tones have always appealed to me, but over time I came to appreciate just how amazing John Doe actually was at the time. The guitar work of Billy Zoom has always been a stand-out, but I’m hardly the first one to notice that; same with drummer DJ Bonebrake. The whole band body politic of their personal and sexual relationships seem odd to me, but it’s nice that they’ve pretty much stayed together as X. Also, Excene and Doe have their equally worth hearing Americana side-project, the Knitters (sort of a mix of X and the Blasters members).  Doe and Excene have also released a duet collection.

While Doe has had a pretty decent on-and-off acting career over the years, sadly Excene has slipped into a right-wing conspiracy nut (check out her YouTube channel), and I have seen her referred to as “the Victoria Jackson of punk.” Sigh.

To be honest, quite embarrassingly, I don’t remember Doris Kiely, who wrote this piece, which was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #6, dated Year-End 1980. It’s an interesting, poetical stream of consciousness piece. Doris, feel free to contact me!  – RBF, 2015

You don’t like anything to be called New Wave. You didn’t mind so much when it was called punk. Greill Marcus wrote, “X is the band that has defined LA’s punk scene.” In NY, their hard-edge is an anomaly in the lapping curls of the New Wave night clubs. Sid’s dead, fashion changes, this apartment is too small for me and the cat and the laundry. You say apartments are cheaper in LA. You say you’ll go uptown to 80s [Club] with me.

The shop is closing, metal gate half across the door. The guy was nice, showing me old jewelry, each piece a talisman with a mysterious history. Walking, there was something I wanted to write. Ringing your doorbell I forgot what it was. No weekly papers, no coffee or booze. Before going out we watch TV.

X spray-painted on a wall about to collapse. Prisoners pushing against it trying to get free. Suffocating, they have fortitude left to make rough sounds, dreary, vertical songs. What am I thinking? Nothing. This is music about loathing and death. People are dancing to it.

Excene wears chains, charms, medallions. Holds her head like she’s drunk, trying not to vomit. Her voice is bratty, a net John Does get caught in, writhing. He’s pensive, a charismatic bassist-singer. Billy Zoom, guitarist, grins sadistically, unrelentingly. I’m on a chair that’s an oasis. X is fast and constant.

You say, “Jane was in a good mood today, she said she was OK.”
I say, “Did you ask her how many pills she took?”
She told you she thinks I’m jaded.

Critics on both coasts invoked X with hyperbolic claims. In NY, R. Meltzer was “gratuitously grandiose” in his critique of them, and R. Palmer referred to their “sheer musical excellence.” Robert Hilburn of the LA Times called X the American answer to “the rock challenge raised by the Sex Pistols and Clash.” The expectation which accompanied X to New York was so great that much of the audience was unduly disappointed. No surf-punks here diving off the stage.

X’s malevolent lyrics are two horrified consciousnesses streaming. Excene bends beneath the microphone, screamed, “Get Out.” It’s not just about a girl who has to leave Los Angeles. “Get Out,” I would curse silently at my girlfriend’s brother, repeating it till he left us alone. “The days change at night/change in an instant,” sounds perfect. I can read their minds. They’re on stage letting me. X is so in pain, they’re lovable. They look rather like misshapen freaks. The drummer, DJ Bonebrake, is hidden.

“I’d slap that bitch,” you say. The women in the ladies room at 3 just got there. They missed the sacerdotal offering, X’s melancholy pastiche of corpses. You say they’re monotonous. You don’t have the record Los Angeles, on Slash [Records]. Its coarse texture is soothing, emotional facets, serious music; a miasma of dust and opiates which is a city. The music sounds like traffic, litter on a hot beach, and rock’n’roll at a high school dance.

X remains a tradition the Sex Pistols initiated. Even so, they exert a powerful originality, and alter our preconception of the laid-back California mentality. The audacity of their non-innovation is entertaining. You say you hung the poster from the Beatles’ white album over your bed for two weeks. Instead of fleshing New Wave romance, X presents skeletons and boney sounds. The songs are narrative, literal, immediate; they make us privy to the band’s disgust. This incites a certain opposition and alarm, which makes them repugnant to some listeners.

X’s tidings of grief are ginormous. They signify intelligence in the face of emptiness. “Thanks a lot,” repeats Billy. “They’ll make a movie called Rock’n’Roll College. It’s hot tonight, isn’t it?” you say. I remember Help carved in crooked letters on a school desk.

 

 

 

 

 

Book Review: This Must Be Where My Obsession With Infinity Began: Essays, by Joe Bonomo

Text (c) Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015

Images from the Internet

 

This Must Be Where My Obsession With Infinity Began: Essays
By Joe Bonomo
Orphan Press (Cordova, TN), 2013
249 pages; USD $15.00
ISBN: 978-0-615-75545-8
It can be ordered HERE

 

Joe Bonomo is a name that is definitely becoming better known in the music historian field. He’s had, in part, books published about the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis, AC/DC (for the prestigious 33-1/3 series), and the definitive biography (okay, the only one) of the Fleshtones. I’ve read and reviewed just about everything he’s written (just search this blog), and Joe’s the real deal.

 

This book, however, takes a autobiographical non-fiction (yes that is a genre, though I prefer the term creative non-fiction) look at his life, in a semi-chronological approach. Rather than a series of anecdotes or a deep analysis of what things mean, this is an artistic look at what makes him tick; not about music, but his formation into what it is he has become.

 

Over the years, Bonomo has been published in numerous creative writing journals, such as the prestigious The Fiddleback, Creative Nonfiction, The Normal School, The Rumpus, and New Ohio Review. These pieces have been collected (and updated; i.e., re-edited) into this anthology of his work; he is certainly not a One Topic Pony, even within the autobiographical framework.

 

From discovering girls as a youth in a strict Catholic school through becoming an academic at Northern Illinois University, Bonomo bars no topic of internal conversation, but rather with fluidly and prose language examines key moments, often unsentimentally but rather as facts, as they are true to his memory, and the formation of himself.

 

While topics such as lost friendships, substances (e.g. booze) and first crushes are clearly and sharply displayed, as he gets older and previous events start to build, that’s when you start to connect the dots and see seminal events in his life, both small and writ large. Not all of it, of course, is fresh and pretty. For example, a discussion on male gaze – especially his own – is strongly evident as he attended strip clubs as a young man:

But as the clothes come off a different cloak is draped. Witness the growing bulge of the strippers G-string – nothing less than her money belt – as she pockets more and more control flowing from these men’s wallets. The sign remains the same for strippers of either gender, the body’s topography cunningly similar to value: for a male stripper, a bulge signifies power, masculinity, control, domination; for a female stripper, a bulge signifies power control, domination – and so, masculinity. … (pp. 91-92).

 

It isn’t until near the end that specific music show up at all, such as a mention of the use of Gary Glitter and the Ramones at ball games, though in “Student Killed by Freight Train,” he talks right up my Media Theory mindset:

 

“I wonder if before the invention of movies we heard sentimental orchestral strings in our minds when we read sad passages in novels, or a wave of triumphant music when, say, little Sylvia perched atop a fir tree first spotted the prized heron’s nest. In 1793 while a dying man gazed far ahead or far back in his imagination, did the edges of his perception grow poignantly fuzzy in a cinematic dreamscape?” (p. 183).

 

We are taken through parts of his life in New York, Maryland, Washington, DC and finally Illinois, where he is currently a professor. In fact, Bonomo almost uses places as a substitute for music as the axes of his life. He will talk about a topic, and pin it to the map by mentioning not only the location, but the building, e.g., such and such a store on this particular street. It’s more than a memory; it gives a stranger a foundation, and someone familiar with the local a mental pinpoint equivalent to a smell that brings back a memory.

 

Location, by fixing it so precisely, presents a form of the cycle of eternity, showing how some things change, but others become both fixed in time and only in memory, so even if they are no longer there, on some level they linger in mind, so they exist yet. He addresses this head-on in “Colonizing the Past”:

In autobiographical nonfiction, place is elastic, no firmer than smoke. Nostalgia carries with it the desire to return and memory its own mindfulness, less the urge to go back than the desire to stay put and try to understand… Google Maps allows me now to fly over my hometown, to revisit in three dimensions an atlas precision the places I’ve rebuilt (or halted the growth of) in my heady imagination. We don’t yet know the effects of this on the culture value of memory: the dream-engine that hovers over the past now competes with digital bits of verifiable information, cartographic certainties, calendar truths.” (pp. 134-135)

 

One of the focal points is Bonomo’s Roman Catholic upbringing, and what one could argue are the sins that normalize into nearly everyone’s life. In the case of Bonomo, including as I mentioned, there is girls and then women (lust), neighbors (envy in some cases, perhaps), self (pride), drink (could be gluttony), and prayer (I might argue as sloth, as in asking for another – God – to do for you rather than earning).

 

Covering both small moments that change one’s perspective and larger events, Bonomo meditates on not just the what, but the wonder of it. For example, in one of my favorite moments, in a piece called “Into the Fable,” he contemplates on a moment in his life where an acquaintance does a questionable, yet not normally memorable thing as a child, but Bonomo ponders why that moment has stuck with him for his whole life, and “why I can’t shake it. John has entered the fable. He’s become a literary figure. He’s become fabled. Does that mean that I invented him? He’s now fabulous. He’s now somewhere, not thinking of me” (p. 234). If I may be so presumptuous, we’ve all had moments like that, where certain events become like a television rerun playing inside our heads, for reasons that shake the internal head of reason. He does kind of answer that earlier in “There Was the Occasional Disruption,” where he states, “What begins as rumor can never circle back to fact, instead moves inevitably toward myth.” (p. 175)

 

Not just because we both worked at a Baskin-Robbins at one point in our lives, I feel a kinship of some kind. Bonomo has lived a very different existence than mine, but there are so many moments that were aha flashes of understanding and on occasional level clear identification. For example, he mentions that “…entering a church, I always felt as if I were entering a movie in the middle. It was a story I felt left out of many times.” (208) This is often how I felt going to synagogue as a youth, and something just didn’t jibe to me; I especially feel it now when I regularly take a relative to a Lutheran church. And don’t get me started on “Spying on the Petries,” a treatise on one of my favorite shows growing up (in repeat form), The Dick Van Dyke Show.

 

While being a non-poetic form of prose, Bonomo tells stories and thoughts without getting overly philosophical, rather staying within the realm of thought and more often than not, the marvel about his life and the events that brought him to the present. The book is an enjoyable read that is exceedingly accessibly without talking down to its reader; both fun and thought-provoking. In short, it’s a good read.

Vanity Plate No. 6: Interviewed by Gary Pig Gold for various blogs

Text © Gary Pig Gold
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015

I was friends with Gary Pig Gold way before I actually met him. He had his Pig Paper fanzine out of Mississauga and Hamilton that started in 1973, and I had my ‘zine, whose first date was 7/7/77. We quickly started exchanging ‘zines and stories. He published some of my articles, and I had his highly regarded “Pigshit” column in mine.

A part of the indie music history most people don’t know is that when I received copies of albums by the cult Texan musician Jandek, they came in twos, so I sent a bunch of the doubles off to Gary. In turn, Gary (who enjoyed them way more than I did, honestly) lent them to a radio DJ named Bruce “Mole” Mowat (also now a friend), who played them on the air, creating a Canadian tidal wave of fans.

Gary is also a phenomenal musician, as well as studio engineer, and I had a chance to see him play a couple of times in New York: once in the Country/Beach Boys themed Ghost Rockets, and another when he performed with The Cheepskates’ Shane Faubert, who backed up the legendary Dave Rave DesRoches at an International Pop Overthrow show in 2007 (HERE).

An internationally known rock historian with his writing appearing in many blogs Gary interviewed me via email and this one showed up in a number of them around 2008. It is part of a series of "Eight Questions" Gary did over the years. 


Check out Gary's site at:  https://www.rocksbackpages.com/Library/Writer/gary-pig-gold  – RBF, 2015

 

Gary Pig Gold Has Eight Questions for Robert Barry Francos
By Gary Pig Gold

Robert first walked into CBGBs circa Spring of 1975 with the Good / Mystic Eyes founder Bernie Kugel, a high school chum, to watch (along with about a dozen other prescient folk) Talking Heads open for the Ramones. Now since Bernie and he were so straight-edged they went for the music rather than the imbibing (nursing a single beer though a twelve-hour show, much to the chagrin and ire of a certain CBGB's waitress) they were able to peruse the scene from an almost objective, outside view. Consequently, RBF tried to write about his tastes and musical preferences for various college papers, but they wouldn't hear of it (being much too disco and Billy Joel-focused). So in the ultra-DIY Spirit of '76 he just started his own fanzine, which he called FFanzeen. Why? As the man himself says, "I figured to name the publication after its very genre, so I chose Fanzine. But Bernie Kugel suggested that I call it Francos Fanzine. While I thought that was too egotistical, I did like the double-F at the beginning, since FF is the sign for fortissimo, or "faster and louder." Then another friend, Alan Abramowitz, who produces a cable access show, suggested I change the spelling of the end part, a la Monkees, Byrds, So FFanzeen was born." See? Simple! It ran a wonderful run from 1977 to 1988. Throughout that entire period, Robert also took many photographs of many good bands, and continues to do so, plus since FFanzeen's demise Robert's continued to work the pen for such over the counter fanzines as Shredding Paper and Oculus. That didn't stop him, however, from revealing to us all today--

1. "Munsters" or "Addams Family": Which one's for you, and Why?

Tough choice, but in the long run, I'd have to go for the Munsters because they had The Standells on the show once. In fact, that whole episode, with the Beat poetry, was a gasser.

2. Who in the world, living or dead, would you most like to play a game of "Twister" with?

Easy. Either 1963-67 Ann-Margret, or 1966-70 Pamela Franklin (how's that for opposites?)

3. How many Sid King & The Five Strings records do you own?

None. But I have this great EP (7-inch, 33-1/3 rpm) of a doctor describing problems of the heart, with sound effects. Picked it up at a Sally Ann (no one in the US of A seems to know what Sally Ann means). In pride, I went to Buffalo, took it with me, and played it for Bernie Kugel. He reached over and pulled out a sister EP with respiratory problems. Who knew there was a series?

4. If you had been working the front gate at The Dakota that night back in 1980 when nasty Mark David Chapman showed up, pistol in hand, to avenge the Chief Beatle for his "Bigger than Jesus" wisecrack, what would you have done?

Well, let me start off by stating that Mark David Chapman and I were born on the same day. Not just the same date, but the same day, May 10, 1955. Of course, on December 8 (also, my brother's birthday) 1980, I would not have known that fact, so after rumination about it, I've come to an answer:

Being a native New Yorker, used to many weird and strange things, I honestly think I would have shat my pants.

5. "Ginger" or "Mary-Ann": Which one's for you, and for How Long?

Easy. Definitely Mary-Ann. Not only is Dawn Wells a cutie, but she STAYED a cutie. Tina Louise is too testy. Got to see Dawn Wells in a dinner theatre production of a Neil Simon play in Calgary.

My spouse even bought me tickets for my birthday!

6. What single song, living or dead, do you most wish you'd written-- and Why Didn't You?

The song would probably change, or I'd want it piece-meal. I love the keyboard on Del Shannon's "Runaway." Then there's almost any early Simon & Garfunkel (yes, the secret is out, I'm a S&G fan). But then there's most of Ellie Greenwich's catalog (best American pop songwriter, bar none). Then there's some stuff by a Winnipeg native named James Keeleghan whose songs can make me cry. Etc.

And the reason I haven't is simple: I'm not talented -- that way.

7. Whose guitar kit would you most like to be reincarnated as?

See number 2.

8. In 2000 words or less, Your Hopes, Aspirations and Goals, musical and otherwise, for your life and your country?

Not to have to listen to any more disco, techno, rap (as a wise Canadian I know once said, "Remember, rap is three-quarters of the word crap"), hip-hop, boy-band, Britney-Christina-Pink-Eve-etc., etc.

30 Questions I’ve Always Wanted to Ask JOHN MENDELSSOHN: Big Star Fanzine Reprint [1977]

Text by Bernie Kugel / Big Star fanzine, 1977
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

This interview was originally printed in Big Star fanzine, issue #2, dated August-September-October 1977. It was written by its publisher, Buffalo (NY) Musician Hall of Fame Inductee Bernie Kugel, who kindly and granted permission for this reprint.

John Mendelssohn  is a well-known and respect music and culture critic. At the time of this article, he was gaining name for both is snarky and funny album reviews, and for his two bands, Christopher Milk and then The Pits. He also released some solo recordings, such as Sorry We’re Open (2010) with pop sounds that belied a history of insecurity and depression (as most writers will attest to about themselves). He often writes about that history now, which is quite evident in this interview.

Over time, as the recordings dwindled, he focused more on his writing, including a number of non-fiction books (such as the much lauded Kinks Kronikles and Waiting for Kate Bush) and a blog. He has made some serious moves over the years, living in such diverse areas as SoCal, England, Germany and Upstate New York, some of which revolved around marriages.

Like Lester Bangs, who was arguably better known, Mendelssohn’s contribution to rock writing cannot be underplayed, as he was part of a voice in the very late ‘sixties and well into the ‘seventies, helping create a form of creative non-fiction that influences the way people discuss the entertainment world at large even today.

Click on these links to check out his informative and fun BLOG called Mendel Illness, WRITING SAMPLES from his earlier days, some of his MUSIC, FICTION, and VIDEO AND MOTION GRAPHICS.

Two things to note are that Mendelsson also has been known to spell is name with a single “s” so don’t let that mislead  you, and that anything in [brackets] was added by me in 2015. – RBF, 2015

Christopher Milk publicity shot: John is second from right

John Mendelssohn’s been making unique, personal, great pop music for some years now with only some of the best of it surfacing on records like his old band Christopher Milk’s great Some People Will Drink Anything [Reprise Records, 1972 – RBF, 2015] LP and his new band the Fits’ fine debut EP on Bomp! Records. But there are other fine John Mendelssohn compositions that have as yet not seen the light of day. Incredible stuff too, like the amazing “Bring Back the Sixties” and the simply majestic “Prepared to Love” among the hours of unreleased Mendelssohn songs.

We’ve been very fortunate to be in contact with John the past few months, and he’s been kind enough to send along some of his unreleased tapes which will be covered in upcoming Big Stars in great detail. But for now, we thought we’d satisfy all you die-hard Mendelssohn freaks out there with this little by-mail exchange I had with him recently. But hang on, ‘cause there’s lots more Mendelssohn-Milt-Fits fax-n-pix comin’ your way soon. And remember, before you decide to move out west, Hollywood can be cruel. Now, Milk on…

1. Did you have aspirations for rock superstardom as a kid?

Up until the time I saw Hard Day’s Night, I dreamed not of rock stardom, but of a career as a professional baseball or basketball player, in spite of the fact that I never exactly excelled at either. (I was very small up until the age of seventeen, which had a little to do with it.)

2. What were your earliest attempts at bands like? What were your earliest original compositions like?

The Fogmen (Santa Monica High School, 1965), The Rubber Souls (winter, 1965) were both Beatles imitations in velour turtlenecks and Thom McCann boots. The Consouls (summer, 1965) was run by three older geezers and played soul music, very poorly. The 1930 Four played English stuff, jazz and a couple of Ray Charles things, and won the Battle of the Bands sponsored by the Santa Monica Chamber of Commerce in 1966. I was thrown out in May 1967. My earliest compositions were lame imitations of my favorite records.

3. What were the early days of C. Milk like? How did the group come together?

Hectic, silly, young and innocent, induplicable [sic] fun. Ralph [Oswald] and I began playing together in April 1968. The Kiddo joined in April 1970, with Mr. Twister. Forgive me if I don’t get more into it, but I’s boring to get so detailed about a group that no longer exists, and hasn’t for nearly four years.

4. Were you satisfied with the first [self-titled 1971] Milk EP when it came out (and the reaction towards it)?

No, but explaining why would take too long and ultimately prove not worth the trouble so far as I can see.

5. Why didn’t Mr. Twister ever appear on vinyl?

Because he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life and was used sort of as comic relief on stage only.

6. Were you happy with the release of the first album? What did you think of the generally negative reaction it got from “critics”?

No. If we’d spend one-tenth the time on the vocals that we did overdubbing seventy-five thousand guitar parts I might be able to listen to it today without cringing. Since most of Warners either hated us or were embarrassed by our presence on the label, it was doomed from the beginning. Also, I think Chris Thomas is a horrible producer [Thomas has produced, among others, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Queen, Roxy Music, Badfinger, The Pretenders, and The Sex Pistols), although he was at that time of the sessions a very dear friend. I’ve come to believe that it deserved the reaction it got. (Essentially, C. Mil’s biggest problem was that ours – or, more accurately, Ralph’s – ambitions far exceeded our abilities as musicians. Of course, I didn’t realize this fully until much later.)

7. Do you have favorite songs off the first LP?

“Tiger,” “A Second Hard Viola” (which I still think Rod Stewart ought to record) (that’s me on drums), the last part of “[The] Babyshoes [Bittersuite Sad Songs That She Inspired].” (If Ralph’s techniques equalled his melodic inventiveness he’d be the best guitarist in rock.)

8. What were the final “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” [1973] single sessions like and did the band immediately break up after being dropped from Warners?

Great fun for everyone save The Kiddo, who disliked the way I recorded and mixed he bass (I produced, but didn’t give myself credit because my work as a critic had made us so many powerful enemies). We broke up almost immediately after the single flopped, having no manager, no label, no agency, no gigs, few fans.

9. Did ya go solo and record things solo before the invention of the Pits, and how did that band come about?

I began working on my own stuff a couple of months before the Milk officially called it quits. The Pits came about because I realized that my trying to synthesize everything on an ARP Odyssey [analog synthesizer] wasn’t’ working.

10. If you had to choose a few songs which have influenced your writing of songs the most, which would you choose?

“Here, There and Everywhere,” “Waterloo Sunset,” “For No One,” “Tattoo,” and so on far into the night. I’ve always been the soft to succumb unhesitatingly to a beautiful melody and a poignant or amusing bunch of lyrics. “For No One’s” my all-time fave.

11. What’s the normal day of John Mendelssohn like today?

Wake up, get out of bed, have a bowl of Team [cereal], some apple juice, several cups of coffee, re-read the LA Times’ Sports Section 85 times, go in den/studio and brood, make lunch, go back into den to sulk until mid-afternoon, go run mile as fast as possible and play basketball or tennis at Fairfax High School (alma mater of Phil Spector), come home, sulk until Marie comes home from work, eat dinner, get high, make love, watch TV or brook some more (or sometimes work on prose or new song), wonder why it’s taking so long to put new Pits line-up together, go to sleep.

12. If you had to briefly characterize your songs what would you say they’re about?

All manner of things, whimsical and wondrous. People are forever comparing me to Sparks, which I detest with a passion.

13. How many songs have you written in your life and which are your favorites?

Around forty. Favorites: “Prepared to Love,” “Autumn Approaching,” “Where’s My Jane?”

14. Do you have a favorite and least favorite rock critic?

Favorite: Lester Bangs, even though he no longer returns my calls. All-time least favorite: Ed Ward [at the time, writing for Rolling Stone, Crawdaddy, and Creem].

15. What do you think you’ll be doing at age sixty?

Brooding.

16. Why aren’t you singing on the new Pits recordings?

I’m very insecure – with good reason – about my voice. But I am getting better.

17. If you had to choose between journalism and songwriting, which would you choose?

Not between songwriting and journalism, but between music and prose. (Sitting at my Hohner String Vox [electric keyboard] for hours on end trying to make a song work isn’t the fun part: recording and performing are infinitely more enjoyable.) I’d take music.

18. Do you envision a day when the Pits will play Dodger and Yankee Stadiums?

I’d settle for the Santa Monica Civic.

19. Do you think superstardom will change you?

Probably a little. In this regard, one couldn’t do better than Bev Bevan [English drummer for the likes of The Move, ELO and Black Sabbath], who’s remained one of the nicest guys and best friends in the world in spite of everything.

20. Do you regret anything you’ve done in this life?

To be honest, there aren’t a lot of things I don’t regret. I’m not one of nature’s happier sorts as a general rule. (When it comes to finding a way to be miserable, even when it appears that everything’s coming up roses, I’m topped only by Chris Thomas.)

21. What would you like written on your grave when you have to go to the popstar heaven in the sky?

Here lies John Mendelssohn.

22. What advice would you have for rock journalist types and somewhat saner folks who want to pursue the road to being a superstar?

I’m the last person anyone in his right mind would come to for advice.

23. Are you generally cheerful or optimistic would you say?

Not hardly.

24. Why haven’t there been more live appearances by the Mendelssohn bands?

We couldn’t get bookings. God knows we rehearsed enough.

25. If you had to put your lifetime goals in twenty-five words or less, what would they be?

I’d like one day to be very happy.

26. What do you think of the (formal) education you’ve had?

Roughly 95% of the teachers and professors I had over the course of sixteen years of schooling ought to be shot, or at least allowed never again to open their stupid yaps within hearing of impressionable youngsters.

27. If you could live in another decade than this one, is there any particular one you’d choose?

I think I could learn to love the present century’s ‘forties and ‘sixties (and probably ‘twenties) in perpetuity.

28. What would you do if there was no rock-n-roll?

Not play quite so loud.

29. Do you have favorite books and authors and films and TV shows and foods?

Authors: Tom Wolfe, Philip Roth, Frederick Exley. TV: “Saturday Night Life” with Tony Kaufman (who with Albert Brooks is one of the two funniest men in America), “M*A*S*H,” “Mary Tyler Moore,” “60 Minutes.” (I used to be dedicated to “All in the Family,” which I know longer enjoy, to the point at which I once came off stage in Irvine at 7:20 and was back in my favorite chair in my house in Laurel Canyon some 62 mile away in time to watch, having broken every possible traffic law in-between. Incidentally, a corner of said chair is visible in one of the photographs of me on the back of the Milk album, taken a few houses after I had my wisdom teeth extracted.) Food: Marie’s world-famous (ask Mr. and Mrs. B. Bevan of Birmingham, England, if you don’t believe me) fried fish, Marie’s world-famous chef salad, just about anything at Au Petit Café on Vine in Hollywood.

30. Do you have any final word to your fans across the world?

Some day