Give Booze A Chance

This is a promotional sticker for Suzi Quatro's album on Bell Records in 1974. That alone is funny because Bell Records was known for having wholesome, bubblegum acts on their label like The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family. Once glitter rock hit America Bell Records cashed in on The Sweet, dropping them after one album, Gary Glitter, picking up Mud and Showaddywaddy for singles only, and Ms. Quatro.

You'd never believe it nowadays but there was a time when a girl pictured in a leather jacket and leather trousers was automatically dismissed as a "dyke" regardless of what her sexual persuasion was. Somehow her appereance dressed in something less than girly was threatening to the arena-rock sensibilties of some. When I looked around for the latest Suzi Quatro single at Tower Records on the Sunset Strip the artist file card said "Suzi 'Dyke' Quatro". Gee, I wonder why they went out of business. But Suzi had the last laugh; her first LA appearance at The Whiskey A Go-Go was sold out and she was awesome.

Here's a flyer from a memorable punk gig at The Masque featuring The Skulls. The late Marc Moreland used to have his clothes torn off him while he played wild, screaming psycho leads on his Gibson Flying V. Sometimes it got so bad all he had left on him was a pair of shredded boxer shorts and sneakers. Once even the shorts came off and he ended up draping himself in the US flag previously standing in the corner proudly. I got to sit in with The Skulls for awhile and it was a great experience.

It was also one of the very first shows played by my band, Arthur J. and The Gold Cups. We were a punk-rock big band that played skewered covers of all kinds, like The Soft Machine's "We Did It Again", which we played ten different times during our 30-minute set, pissing punks off in ways they thought they were too impervious to be irritated. Some of the other boys in the band included Geza X on guitar, Brendan Mullen on drums, Hector Penalosa from The Zeros on bass, and a host of others.

I remember reading the fine print on the Creem Magazine masthead where it said they aren't responsible for returning unsolicited contributions, which to me meant they didn't exactly refuse them, so I sent a few album reviews to Creem in 1972. It seemed pretty important at the time, because back then Creem Magazine was the best rock magazine around, reporting on bands like The Stooges and Roxy Music, which their larger counterparts Rolling Stone Magazine refused to acknowledge. Well, maybe my reviews weren't the greatest  ever written, but they couldn't be any worse than a lot of the in-joke nonsense they used to publish. At least I got this rejection letter from them that was sent on cheaply xeroxed stationery. What a bunch of skinflints. I guess they needed the money to buy dope for the next J. Geils Band arena concert. I wondered what kind of stationery they used at Circus Magazine.
(Click on image for enlargement)

Rebecca's friend Jane painted her house in San Francisco as a shrine to her favorite band The Beatles. She obviously loved every phase that these talented chaps from Liverpool went through, as you can see. First of all I just want to say that her parents are the hippest people on the planet for allowing her to paint this amazing tribute all over their home. What makes this piece so brilliant is that the band image placement is proportionate to every phase of their careers, so you have the early "Hard Day's Night" Beatles down by the basement (early period), the 1966 Al Brodax - King Features Syndicate cartoon show Beatles (complete with crocodile) towards the middle, and then the 1968 Yellow Submarine Beatles way up on top, complete with "Paul Is Dead" reference. Three of The Beates look healthy but obviously Paul's face is painted red because it's all bloody from that alleged car crash.

After awhile the house missed a few upgrades and even The Beatles started to look shabby, so the neighbors began leaving notes on their front door offering to paint over this shrine, even offering to supply the paint for free. And to think, I thought people from San Francisco loved great art. By the way, don't bother trying to find this place in SF because it's long gone, just like the boys themselves.

BTW, if this was my home I'd have a few quadrophonic speakers set up in front of the house blasting Beatles music all day, every phase of their careers from the Tony Sheridan - Cavern days to the Sgt. Pepper period to the Dead Paul Vs. Yoko Husband period (1970). I'd even throw in Ringo's "Sentimental Journey" album and the "Don't Worry Kyoko" masterpiece from Toronto. That would really give the neighbors something to talk about.

It Was A Pleasure Then

Life is fraught with decisions, and the decisions I had to face was whether to go to the Suzi Quatro party at The Tropicana, which was invitation only, or the Zolar X party at Rodney's English Disco, which wasn't. As long as you had five dollars you could get in, but I didn't have five dollars to swing around on a weeknight. There was the third option, of course. Rumor had it that Roxy Music were staying at The Continental Hyatt House to do promotional stuff and we could always just hang out there. It didn't cost anything and maybe I can meet Bryan Ferry in the lobby. Wouldn't that be great? Well, it wasn't. Fifty other kids had the exact same idea as me. Advancing closer and closer to the enormous lobby of the Continental Hyatt House on the Sunset Strip with its gigantic windows I could see tons of glitter kids hoping to run into my hero.

My ankles were aching from supporting my tall teenage body on three inch brass platform heels and sparkly copper vinyl shoes. They made my back ache too, but as they said, style before comfort. I walked through the automatic doors to the entrance and saw my friend Randy from the English Disco. "Hey!"

"Hay is for whores", I quipped.
"Hey, whore, are you here to see Alex Harvey?" Randy asked in his striped satin thunderbolt suit. He thought it made him look like Marc Bolan.
"The Sensational Alex Harvey Band are here, too?"
"Yeah, who are you here to see?"
"Roxy Music. I wanna see Bryan Ferry. Maybe I can get his autograph".
"Well, good luck. He hasn't left his hotel suite all day. He's probably giving a million interviews. Hey, nice threads. When did you get these?" he rubbed my jacket between his fingers. I was wearing a brand new green velvet jacket with extra-wide lapels with matching elephant flares.
"Last week. I bought it from a boutique on Third that just closed down".
"I got mine from Granny's".
"Granny's is nice if you can afford it. Hey, is that?"

A very thin girl with huge black pigtails led a very stoned, emaciated platinum blonde boy wearing a black leather jacket with a leopard on the back, just like the one on the back cover of Iggy & The Stooges' "Raw Power". Under his jacket was a t-shirt of Iggy Pop's face. "Jimmy, gimme a smoke. Is Steve Marriott staying here? Ah, fuck it", whined the girl.
"Yeah, it's him", Randy whispered. "And he's got his favorite shirt on in case he forgets who he is".
"Jesus", I gurgled. At the sound of that the platinum blonde boy stopped, stared at me, and then craned his head around the lobby making sure everybody recognized him.

"Well, I guess this beats the Suzi Quatro party, anyway", I turned away from Iggy.
"Suzi Quatro? That dyke?"
"She's not a dyke. I think she's doing her guitar player".
"That fat guy? Bullshit, she's a dyke. She wears leather pants and sneakers. Dyke!"
I wasn't going to let anybody tell me my favorite girl singer was a dyke, so I changed the subject. "So what's so great about The Sensation Alex Harvey Band?"
"Dude, didn't you hear? They opened for Styx at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. They did they whole 'Vambo Rools OK' number on stage with the brick wall and it was far-out. And then Styx goes on and half the audience walked out of the place. Styx couldn't follow Alex Harvey".
"Well, I don't know, I can't follow a band with a mime who plays guitar. I'd rather rock out to a dyke".

A tall skinny kid walked by with a David Bowie haircut and a traumatically chewed up, pocked mark face with a feathered boa around his neck. It was Chuckie Starr, who Randy knew well.
"Hey, Chuckie, what are you doing here? I figured you'd be at the Suzi Quatro party at The Tropicana", Randy asked.
"Security's too tight to get in. Bryan Ferry's here tonight. I'm going to see Lori later at the Zolar X party. Are you going?" Chuckie said as he craned his head around the room looking for someone more fabulous than us.
"Oh, sure, Darling", Randy lied. Chuckie didn't even hear him; he recognized someone and ran towards them, shrieking.

"Are you going to get Sweet tickets at the Civic on Saturday?"
"Yeah, what time does the box office open?"
"Twelve thirty", Randy's face brightened as he saw a distant figure walk quickly towards the hotel coffee shop. "Alex Harvey! I gotta get his autograph!" Randy ran towards the coffee shop with Chuckie Star following and even Iggy and his date following from the rear. Ah, this is a waste of my time, I thought.
I trudged out to the sidewalk into the Sunset Blvd night, looking up at the lit-up palm trees reaching for the sky. A man who resembled a tall palm tree looked at me. It was Kim Fowley.

"What's happening?" he asked with his clear blue eyes burning into me.
"Iggy Pop's chasing after Alex Harvey in the coffee shop".
"Oh, is that all? Well, Arthur Lee's walking around Filthy McNasty's with a gun in his jacket. Can you beat that?"
"No, I guess I can't. Good night", I said. I didn't have wheels and the 91-S bus took forever to show up, so I walked from Sunset & La Cienega to my house on Pico & Robertson. Goodnight Hollywood, until next time.