Roll Up The Sidewalk

Griff kept a lot of his rock magazines and newspapers in milk crates to expedite moving his stuff since he moved so frequently from apartment to apartment. It was one of those magazines that caught his eye as he wrapped newspaper around his beer glasses. The cover of an old Spin Magazine stared right up at him with a picture of his hero Wolf Gang Thompson, former lead singer of the band The Inkblot.

Thompson had a distant look in his eyes, his hair much shorter than when he had been a star, chopped short as if he took a scissors to it himself and didn't care how much he took off. A real suicide cut. A Bellevue hairdo. Griff stopped his wrapping and crouched down and picked up the magazine, opening to the article on Wolf Gang Thompson. He'd read many times before and he never seemed to tire of it.

"SHOT BY BOTH SIDES: WOLF GANG THOMPSON AFTER THE INKBLOT", read the headline. The article showed a before and after montage of Thompson, group photo of him in The Inkblot with a full head of dark brown hair and pretty looks right next to the current face looking electro-shocked with hollowed out eyes, Bellevue hair and a large, deep scar running down the side of his face.

"In their prime The Inkblot was England's most sinister psychedelic band, weaving sonic textures of amplified noise tempered with pretty, bubblegum pop melodies. A few singles in the Top 40 and they were well on their way until Thompson indulged a little too much in his favorite pharmaceuticals.

"Things are looking up for former Inkblot leader Wolf Gang Thompson, looking a little more robust than he has in years and playing tapes from his forthcoming solo album, 'The Court Jester Mumbled'. Nervously lighting a cigarette that he placed on an ashtray which stayed there unsmoked for the rest of the interview, Thompson said, 'People who write their own songs and don't cover anyone else's are rather boring'. Ironically, every song on 'Court Jester' is an original.

"'When I'm not playing my guitar I putter around in my garden and check up on my garden gnomes. It's all good fun.'
Was being in the band too much pressure for you?
'Why would you say that? You're not referring to THAT show, are you?'
Thompson referred to the final Inkblot show where he simply stood on stage with guitar strapped on and spent the first three songs staring at the spotlights beaming down on him.
'That was a mere trifle, you know, just a misadventure. After that we went our separate ways, me and the boys. They're doing well, aren't they? I don't know, everybody seems to be having fun and I never seem to have any'.

"Actually, our question about pressure referred to THE INCIDENT.
Thompson felt along the side of his face, gently grazing the long scar that ran down.
'Oh yes, that. Well, I was good and tired of being the face of the band. Took a straight razor to the side of my face and all that sex symbol nonsense was over and out, know what I mean? Do you read me?'
Do you ever regret it?
"No, never. Now it's all about the music, man. The Court Jester is back and he's mumbling. Would you like to see my paintings?'"

"We were then invited to his tiny bedroom to view his paintings, several small works that wouldn't look out of place in a Nursery School homeroom. Bright primary colors, crude brushstrokes of simple images of shapeless people smiling and motorboats floating by crooked lighthouses,and subjects of that nature.
'People keep offering me large sums of money for my art just because I'm Wolf Gang Thompson, but I won't sell them. My art belongs to me, mind you'.
Will you play us a track from your new album?
Thomson brightened up and played a track, a small echo-laden number with only him and an acoustic guitar. The song is called "Dry Tidal Wave".

Griff turned the page of the magazine and read the headline, "Boxer Rebellion Call It Quits After Three Years, Citing Musical Differences". The band looked mopey and unhappy in the photograph. Another turn of the page and yet another headline, "Pol Butcher Goes Solo, Leaves His Band Butcher Shop Looking For New Vocalist". Butcher Shop were cool for their first two albums and then started to suck real hard. They probably stole all the material for those first two records. Shit.

Bored with the whole business of packing, Griff got up and headed for Canter's, open for coffee even though it was already 2 am in the morning. He slid into the booth and a waitress named Norma took his order.

"Hey, I remember you. Didn't you used to come here years ago with an old guy, glasses, beard, the whole bit?"Norma smiled.
"Yeah, that was my trumpet teacher Jeffrey. After our lessons we used to stop over for some coffee".
"He played trumpet? Well I'll be...he wasn't a bad guy, a little fresh, but he was alright. Whatever happened to him?"
"I haven't been taking the lessons for awhile so I haven't seen him. I was hoping maybe he's been here for some coffee".
"Nah, he stopped coming after you did. Well! I'll hurry up with your order", she ran off.
"Thanks", Griff voice trailed behind her.

Griff started thinking about those coffee breaks after their trumpet lessons and how weird the conversations went. Jeffrey was funny and so together then. What a shame he went over the deep end.
Jeffrey: Coffee and cornbread, that's all you need out of life, Audrey.
Griff: What about pussy?
Jeffrey: DID I FORGET PUSSY? Jesus, Audrey, I must be losing my marbles, how could I forget that? Definitely pussy!
Waitress walks by and bends over to put silverware on table across from them. She has very thick legs.
Jeffrey: Holy cow, Audrey, how'd you like to have those big thick legs wrapped around you? That would be pure heaven!
Griff's face reddened.

Griff: Let's change the subject. Did you ever play on any rock records?
Jeffrey (makes sour face): I had offers, but you know that rock stuff, I just don't get it, all that repeating and repetition. How can you feel that? It's like saying the same thing twenty times, over and over again. Griff: Hmmm....Who do you think I should listen to for inspiration?
Jeffrey: Oh hell, Audrey. There's Clifford Brown, Donald Byrd, there's a great player, Lee Morgan got some strong chops, and of course Dizzy the Great...look at that beautiful black goddess. Black women, most perfect looking females.
Griff: Jeffrey, you're Jewish. Don't you like the Yiddish chicks?
Jeffrey: Hell, I love my mother but I wouldn't marry her. That's just sick! Ba-doo-bop, ba-da-bop-a-dee-bop. Hiya gorgeous, our cornbread's finally here, corn stalks lend me your ears!
Norma makes a face.

Griff chuckled to himself over the memory. The streets were dark, the night was cold, his friend was gone, and from a distance he could see Norma the waitress coming by with his order of coffee and cornbread.

5 Tops 100 Hours

The next time you see somebody on "Project Runway" look like they shit a cow after being told to create an outfit in 24 hours, slap them silly for me. I created five tops in 100 hours, and if I were to compute the time spent actually sewing them it would be a mere fraction of that time. Since Rebecca was out on location for the next four days I had unlimited access to the workshop and all the equipment to make the clothes I love to wear, and I did just that. Let's go through each top, one by one:

On Day 1 (Tuesday) I sewed a top made of some stretchy green fabric I bought from the remnant rack at Michael Levine's. It was absolutely hip, exciting and beautiful to work with and look at, but there was only enough to fabricate a shell with. Since there wasn't enough material to make sleeves I had to employ something else so I used some great fishnet material to finish the job. I always like making tops with fishnet sleeves so I can show off my 7-star tat sleeve (go to Purple Panther Tattoo), so I tricked out some fishnet arms and I'm very pleased with the results. How's that for hip, exciting and beautiful?

Day 2 (Wednesday) had me making a purple velvet top. This was a challenge, to be sure, because it wasn't crushed velvet and there almost wasn't enough material to finish the job. In fact, one of the arms had to be cut in two segments in order to complete the top - a sleeve is usually cut in one piece. Ironically, it was the two-piece sleeve that had better ease than the one-piece sleeve! This piece was so tight I'm going to have to cut out pasta and ice cream for the next five years.

On Day 3 (Thursday) I made a tank top of bamboo material. Since I already own several pieces made from bamboo I was excited to work with this material. Bamboo has a texture that feels like cotton but has a coolness to it that feels more like a poly blend. In fact there were times when I felt like I was working with a lycra/polyester combination, so unfibrous was the material.

Making the tank top was a challenge because bamboo is very delicate, sometimes too much so. On three occasions the material got caught in the fangs of the feed dogs of the sewing machine (between the bobbin and the walking foot), the last time being the worst. The fangs took a big bite out of the material and I had to pull the material out leaving a nice rip in the fabric before I could even finish the job. Nuts!

Day 4 (Friday): Equally sensitive was the purple bamboo I purchased on closeout at Mood for only $3.oo (what a find!). This tore quicker than TP and three bad turns with the scissors required some quick repairs. I do not recommend this material for sewers with serious patience issues or quick tempers. God knows I lost mine after the second time I accidentally cut through the fabric. The top turned out okay but more than slightly looks like the walking wounded!

There was supposed to be a fifth top, a black crushed velvet stretchy thing, but I wasted most of the day constructing a muslin that turned out worse than the actual top itself. Although it's procedure to make a muslin practice run I made so many revisions that it took up most of the day. Nuts!

Truth be told, making cool clothes in a limited amount of time felt more like "24 Hour Catwalk", the short-lived show hosted by Alexa Chung and an uber-bizarre group of sewing professionals, all veterans of the fashion industry, especially tough muffin JustRaymona. I wish I had JustRaymona helping me with these delicate fabric nightmares. Time is tight.

Alec Empire's Empirical Revolution

One of the most exciting artists in music today, Alec Empire has been recording and producing music for over twenty years, and is still more contemporary and alive than most music being produced today. An Alec Empire record could be electronic, it could be punk rock, or it could even be very ambient in the Brian Eno mode. One thing's for sure, Empire is one of the most unpredictable (read: uncategorizeable) artists in music.

My introduction to Alec Empire's brand of sonic skronk came not from his popular band Atari Teenage Riot, but from a wild compilation series of electronic noise, "Electric Ladyland" (no connection to the Jimi Hendrix album). Tracks like "Caucasian Death Mask" and "Naive Fake Jazz" as well as his brain scraping collaborations with New York band Techno Animal got my attention. All this and more guaranteed groove based musique concrete and ear blasting dubstep workouts.

Seeing the name Alec Empire over and over again provoked further investigation into this character and finding out that he also made some insane rock records, like "The Golden Foretaste of Heaven" which features the great "New Man" which sounds like Gary Numan with deranged Iggy Pop vocals (currently on my jukebox to the right) and "If You Live Or Die". There's still lots of great electronics, more of a rock action beat going on, with Empire crooning nihilistically all over the mess.

"Futurist" is a more punk album, giving substance to his Digital Hardcore manifesto. His brand of Digital Hardcore is way more punk than Ministry or Nine Inch Nails. The hardest tracks are "Gotta Get Out" and "Overdose" with his screaming and synth screeching ripping your skull clear off your neck in 3/4's of a second! A completely different release is "Shivers", more groove/dance oriented with the standout track being "Baby Skulls", a cold hard look at the fascist attitude of the United States Government and its overbearing and invasive foreign policy, dressed up as peace and freedom loving. In a pig's eye.

After all this Empire worship I finally decided to go back and listen to his main project Atari Teenage Riot, and while I still find some of the punkism a little too Hot Topic I still think it's more admirable that the band play at Anti-Nazi rallies and every so often the band bust out a wild jam like "Revolution Action".

If you don't know who Alec Empire is I strongly urge you track his stuff down - he's definitely not hiding in a cave, he's out and about on Tumblr, You Tube, Twitter, Facebook and other digital watering holes for your review. The guy's not too shy about switching styles so there's something for everybody to enjoy from him, and if you don't try I'm going to get in your face about Amon Tobin, Kid Koala and DJ Spooky.

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When I think of the Seventies and all the darkness I went through following the loss of my parents which introduced me to my teenage years, two songs haunt me even to this day: Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper" and Steely Dan's "Do It Again". Both songs appeared as if bookends during different sides of that decade, "Reaper" in 1976 (pre-punk) and Steely Dan in 1972 (pre-glitter). This is no coincidence as both songs almost seem to be waiting for those two powerhouse trends to finally manifest and bring on the fun, but until then...we have these two brilliant but sad songs to fill in the pleasure void.

BOC was ahead of their time with the "Agents of Fortune" album, forerunners not only of punk but of goth music as well. Dark themes of ghostly apparitions (The Revenge of Vera Gemini), S&M (Dominance and Submission), black magic and even Joan Crawford were explored by the band and it was a lot less broad than Black Sabbath's take on darkness.

Steely Dan were just plain weird and conjure up so many memories of teenage years going to West Hollywood and meeting hustlers, mentally disturbed teen runaways and trannies - Ricky Don't Lose That Number, indeed - at Arthur J's and The Other Side aka OS and seeing The Deadly China Doll perform. The haunting sounds of "Do It Again" conjures up a sleaze stew equal parts Jean Genet and William Wellman's "Wild Boys On The Road". Sex was still scary and homosexuality was even scarier, naked men with awful sideburns and hairy bodies! Steely Dan captured that cocaine meets that Locker Room butyl nitrate stench down Santa Monica Boulevard groove with "Do It Again", the tale of a loser who dabbles with the seven deadly sins, Drug Addiction, Alcoholism ("you'll be on your knees tomorrow"), Murder, Gambling ("you must put your cards on the table") and the whole damn thing.

With all the talk about the wheel turning round and round and a sitar solo you know there's a Hindu higher power beckoning from behind the curtain, evidence in their rockabilly jazz classic "Bodhisattva". Just think, The New York Dolls were also waiting in the wings to make life fun again. It's all too much!

The Queen Is Dead/The Bitch Is Dead

Last week Chrissy Amphlett of The Divinyls passed on from breast cancer and multiple sclerosis at the age of 53. Chrissy embodied Australian punk rock at its best and was even a bit of a rock fashion innovator, rockin' the insane schoolgirl look eons before Babes In Toyland and Hole took credit for that style (see video below).

Amphlett sang in a tough girlish voice that spearheaded the band's razor sharp sound perfectly, with great tunes like "Boys In Town" and a wild cover of The Easybeats' "I'll Make You Happy". The band invested in a physical and sonic makeover with their big New Wave hit "I Touch Myself". It was rumored that Amphlett was offered a chance to have her teeth re-done but declined, proud of her working class grillwork.

After the band scored their big hit Amphlett and her then boyfriend, guitarist Marc McEntee moved to Los Angeles, particularly the Pico-La Cienega district, amusing in that it's well-known for being a very staid middle class Jewish neighborhood where nothing ever really happens. I remember when choreographer Toni Basil lived around there in the late Seventies.

The Divinyls were always a pretty entertaining band but any view of Amphlett in action was lightning in a bottle, a pure distillation of everything that made punk rock red hot. Memories of her serve as an undying punk rock inspiration.

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"The bitch is dead". The last word uttered by James Bond at the end of Casino Royale, and a fitting way of describing the passing of the obnoxious Alvin Lee of Ten Years After. His legendary arrogance and rudeness places him in a pantheon of peerless assholism headed by pricks like Ray Davies, Jeffrey Lee Pierce and Gene Simmons, to name a few.

Lee died on March 6th with his notoriety somewhat linked to that awful boogie warhorse "Goin' Home" from the Woodstock festival. This number alone not only dumbed down his music forever but hard rock in general. To hear this execrable boogie garbage you'd never think that one point Lee and his band produced three amazing albums in the late Sixties - Stonehenge, Ssshh, and Cricklewood Green. All three albums showed a band that effortlessly melded rock, blues and jazz without breaking a sweat.

Lee wore his roots on his sleeve, singing and playing sounding so closely to Mose Allison it was hard to tell whether it ws homage or blatant rip-off. At any rate many people were turned on to Allison thanks to Lee's serious Allison influences. His speed-freak style guitar playing which was reviled by critics at the time owed quite a bit to Les Paul's more jazzy workouts. I knew a few jazz guitarists that disliked rock & roll but listened to Alvin Lee for his refined approach.

Unfortunately Lee had a massive ego and his reputation as a creep was widespread, even prompting a few jabs from Iggy Pop himself in his autobiography "I Need More", stating that Ten Years After and Lee in particular were absolute dicks to The Stooges backstage at the Boston Tea Party. An interview with Lee in 1969 for Zygote Magazine started out with the interviewer literally walking in backstage and catching Lee staring lovingly at himself in the mirror.

The lowest point in Ten Years After's history, however, was their protest song, "I'd Love To Change The World", where Lee condemns "dykes and fairies, tell me where is sanity". Somewhere in Lee's universe he didn't envision sanity leaving average assholes like him who need to verbally and physically beat homosexuals for simply having different sexual preferences. Every time I hear this awful song I feel like a knife going through me.

There's something sad about a musician who has a rich sonic palate to work with and abuses it by watering it down to trotting out old Fifties oldies and lame boogie workouts, but he finally took it to the grave with him, where they, his homophobia and ultimately he belong.

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Documentaries on bubblegum pop stars have run the gamut from absorbing (Who Is Harry Nilsson?) to not so (Paul Williams Still Alive) but outside of "Karen Carpenter: Superstar" there hasn't been one as depressing as "Family Band: The Cowsills Story". The film documents one of the most poorly managed successful bands in the history of pop music, made the more bizarre because the band was managed by their father.

The Cowsills started out as an average set of brothers hitting it as a garage band taken over by their bullying father Bud who came upon the concept of bringing in their mother and little sister (Susan), turning them into a wholesome rock & roll attraction. The focus and spokesperson of the band suddenly became Barbara (Mom), much to the horror of the Cowsill boys.

Although Barbara Cowsill was the so-called face of the band she was equally intimidated by her alcoholic and abusive husband, whose only choice in protecting Susan, her molested daughter was by sending her to an aunt's home or keeping her on the road. Bud's managerial skills were so aggressive and amateurish, says Bill Cowsill, that the band was originally scheduled for five spots on The Ed Sullivan Show but were dropped after only two.

The band were also bullied by MGM Records who refused to release their cover of "Hair", a battle the band actually won by challenging a local radio station to play "Guess Who?" on the air, the outcome being if anybody couldn't guess it was The Cowsills it would have to be played regularly. They won, and the record became a million seller. Unfortunately MGM hated their video for the song, a goofy piss-take with the band wearing silly hippie wigs.

Celebrity guests in the film include guitarist Waddy Wachtel and Tommy James (of the Shondells) who all attest to the terror dished out by Rock & Roll Dad Bud, with James even adding that whenever Bud's temper hit threat level red "I let the guys hang out in my office upstairs until the coast was clear". What a nightmare!

The film hurts not just by showing the band's artistic and financial bankruptcy but the aftermath of their lives following their fall as pop stars: Richard Cowsill's serious heroin addiction brought on by his tour of duty in Vietnam, Barry Cowsill's death during Hurricane Katrina and the eerie event of Bill Cowsill's death the day after.

Narrated by Bob Cowsill, the film concludes with the band still embracing their love for performing and finally getting a chance to play the kind of music their insane father and their obnoxious record company forbade them to play. It may not be the most brilliant shit ever played but at least they've finally found the freedom they've been denied for most of their lives. I know I'll never hear "The Rain The Park and Other Things" the same way again.

Chatroom (Great Britain, 2010)

As far as I'm concerned, you haven't been on the Internet until you've been flamed by some asshole(s) on a message board. Adding a completely harmless comment not meant to upset anyone, you find yourself suddenly attacked by a pack of virtual xenophobic dick heads who feel violated by a new voice speaking to them on their precious message board. Well, now there's a movie about an Internet bully called "Chatroom", which was released in England in 2010.

Directed by Hideo Nakata, master of the creepy film, whose past works include "The Ring" and "Dark Water", "Chatroom" continues his creepy pitch quite well. Adapted from a play written by Enda Walsh, Chatroom tells the story of a manic depressive teenager named William (played by Aaron Williams, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Syd Barrett), the son of a successful children's book writer who names her educational book series after William's older brother Ripley. If William's family hated him it would be easy to see why he holds them in such contempt, yet from all signs it appears his family loves him. He's just too messed up to see it clearly.

William starts a chat room of his own called Chelsea Teens, attracting a diverse group of unhappy peers, including Eva (Imogen Poots), Jim (Matthew Beard from "An Education"), Mo (Daniel Kaluuya), and Emily (Hannah Murray playing a more uptight version of Cassie from "Skins"). They meet in an empty room draped in red - representing the tone William tries to set by inciting their hatred. His opening question to them is "What do you hate the most?" William recognizes a victim in Jim when Jim says he hates himself the most.

Nakata makes some subtle color choices in his scenes, depicting William's bedroom in monochromatic tones of gray and only allowing full colors in the virtual house with deep green hallways and vibrant, menacing red meeting rooms. The hallways bear more than a slight resemblance to Stanley Kubrick's hallway in "The Shining" and the chat rooms recall David Lynch, as well.

William gets into everyone's head and goads them into performing negative acts with severe consequences, persuading: 1) Mo to confess his love for his best friend's 11 year old sister to him, getting him beat up and called a pedophile, 2) Emily her family will love her more if she vandalizes their home, 3) Jim to flush his antidepressants down the toilet making him go into violent withdrawals, and; 4) mutilating images of Eva's snotty model friends on the Internet. Since Eva is starving for a boyfriend she's somewhat sold on William's bullying methods. For a while.

Jim finally drums up enough courage to confess the major source of his depression, a traumatic abandonment at the zoo by his father when he was only 7 years old. After confessing the horrible story he realizes it was cathartic but William pounces on him by telling him to hold on to his depression, that feeling better about getting his feelings off his chest wasn't beneficial at all. Boy, does this sound like some asswipe on the Internet or what?

Eva's affections for William are snubbed by his obsession with bullying Jim. William goes for the hard sell regarding Jim's suicide by taking him to a site/room called Dorfli Place, a sort of take-off on emo suicidal attitudes. A video tape of a Japanese girl killing herself on camera is played for Jim with William standing in the background leering likes he's about to cream his shorts!

William blows off Eva so he can concentrate on getting Jim to shoot himself, handing him a gun at the very same zoo Jim was abandoned at. Can Emily, Mo and Eva get to the zoo on time to stop Jim from snuffing it and stopping the dastardly deeds of evil William? Only Skins fans know for sure.

To be perfectly honest, Chatroom isn't a great film but it does have a lot of thoughts about the Internet and how its warped perspectives and self-images in everyone in general, especially teenagers. Yes, there are plot-holes, no, the police won't come to your house if you post bullshit about someone, but the bottom line is that if you like Skins or moody teens in general you'll probably give this movie a big parental hug. And anyway, what could be more satisfying than watching a message board bully finally get the piss-thrashing they truly deserve?