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(hommage mineur à Bil Keane)

To Live and PXL in LA

I haven’t been to LA since living there in '89-'90.  I drove a front-end loader at a garbage plant in Long Beach on Terminal Island for 8 months and shot footage on my Fischer Price PXL 2000 camera that I had bought at Toys-R-Us for about $100.  The camera uses audiocassettes to record audio and visual simultaneously, running at about 5 times the speed the tape normally runs on a tape deck.  The best description I’ve heard compares the b&w picture quality to a Chuck Close painting; grainy, fragmented and blurry.  I documented a whole lot of junk on my PXL, particularly while living in LA for those 8 or so months and had two short films in the 'PXL This 14' "festival" held every year in LA.  By “festival” I mean night-of-PXL-films- at-a-small-video-gallery. Last Friday afternoon I realized that the 15th Annual ‘PXL This’ festival was happening on Saturday the 19th at Sponto Gallery in Venice.  I done did book my flight and arrived in LA Saturday morning at 11AM.  All told, I spent less than 24 hours in LA County.  I had to take a nap the minute I arrived at my hotel and then went down to the beach in Santa Monica to see how commercialized everything had become.  I can’t say I recommend LA for a single day when flying from NY, the whole time I felt like I was on the verge of a mental coma.  I’m not one of those New York types that hate LA., I honestly could live on either coast.  But I must say, it is a strange and curious place.  It’s just so…. different (from New York).  Take the weirdo’s for instance.  They have their whole own breed of weirdo’s out there, I can’t even relate.  More like hippy-Manson-weirdo’s than your East Coast, city-bred weirdo’s.  West Coast Weirdo’s seem more like they’re on Angel Dust than actually 'touched'.  And another thing that stood out was the LA Homeless Army.  I guess you could say that the homeless population in LA seems a lot bigger and possibly more intelligent than our NYC homeless, it being warm and beautiful in LA all the time.  LA’s homeless don’t live in the subways, they live under palm trees, next to flowering Bird of Paradise plants , which until yesterday, I had never seen except in the florist.  Our homeless are defiantly quieter, too.  Being homeless in LA practically requires that you walk around shouting inanities into the air, or dance in the street, or do things with a plastic bag that I can see on next season’s runways.  So that night, after my nap, after my walk, feeling like I was coming off drugs and knowing I had about 5 hours left to enjoy myself, I drove my rent-a-car to Venice for the big PXL event.  Evidently, PXL usage is alive and well, which was a real treat, having never seen any PXL films beside my own.  And boy was there enough PXL to go around, 4 full-blown hours worth, mommy.  People are putting a lot more thought into it than I am.  Evidently other PXL’ers actually try to make something whereas I just aim for throwaway whatever-ness.  My entry, of course, was totally retarded; titled '10 Movements-America', it consisted of random footage from a family reunion in the Live Free of Die state of NH.  My mom kept running us up there in the early 90’s saying that my grandmother was sure to be taking her last breath any day then.  One of the ‘PXL This’ organizers, Eli Elliot, my personal heaven sent PXL guru, edited my footage in the name of art and turned my scrap shots into a titled, credited, edited PXL film.  Without him, I’d be nothing.  LA in a day, what the hell!?

(F:) Drive Video Vault

Rarely do my worlds collide with such hilarity as in this clip from grindcore band Dying Fetus.  To see the Blue's Clues "face" and other images from popular children's TV used in this fashion brings me great joy.  (Everyone knows that Death Metal vocals started with the Cookie Monster, anyway.)  Go on, play this video for your kids—with the given indecipherability of the lyrics, I'm sure no one's in danger, despite the title.  Here's more information about the band and the album, plus guitar tabs for the song.  [Dying Fetus - Kill Your Mother Rape Your Dog mpg]

Since there seems to be a Fall renaissance going on, it's timely to view these clips of the band in their salad days.  First, one of the earliest lineups performing "Psychomafia" and "Industrial Estate" (plus some interview footage), taken from the What's On? program in 1978.  Note the presence of original keyboardist (and Mark E. girlfriend) Una Baines.  The next clip is a raucous live performance of the song "Smile" from 1983, when the band was featured on the BBC's The Tube.  BBC Radio icon John Peel appears briefly in the intro; Peel waived his hosting fee, with the agreement that The Fall could perform on the show.  All this should make you ripe and ready for The Wonderful and Frightening World of Mark E. Smith, an outstanding 2005 BBC4 documentary that is so good, the lack of a subsequent DVD release would be criminal.  (RSM contributed)  [Fall clip 1] [Fall clip 2]

How cool were The Stranglers?  Look at Hugh Cornwell—you wish you were half as cool as he is in this Top of The Pops clip, where the band apes to their version of Burt Bachrach's "Walk On By."  Not the greatest lip syncher, but still way cool.  Start with a base stock of Roxy Music, add some Ray Manzarek keyboards, fold in four creative, decadent minds and stir, with lots of grit and sweat from the pub floor and voila! — one of my all-time favorite bands.  Why are The Stranglers not as heralded as some of their contemporaries from the UK punk explosion?  Was it Dave Greenfield's refusal to leave the prog era behind and cut his hair?  Perhaps they were too dark, too literary or too sexy for their own good.  The Stranglers still perform and record today, albeit without Hugh, who's busy with his solo projects, including two books and a touring/recording band.  [The Stranglers - Walk On By mpg]

Chinese Rocks

What has Wm. Berger been doing since he left the WFMU airwaves in 1999?  Well, a lot of things.  Among them, amassing a collection of great Chinese pop and rock music.  Mostly by way of recommendations from online friends in China and Taiwan, I've collected a handful of great, contemporary Chinese rock albums, and I have to assume that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

China has emerged in recent years as an economic giant, also seemingly in the midst of some dramatic cultural changes.  The children of upscale Americans are learning Mandarin, a language that may soon be as common here as Spanish if the Chinese have their way with the global marketplace.  Chinese hit movies like Hero and House of Flying Daggers play here (undubbed) to massive box office response.  There's no time like the present, then, to get acquainted with some of the Republic's rock underground.

Anthony Wong / Anodize - Hong Kong cinema star Anthony Wong Chau-Sang has acted in over 130 films since 1985. He made a name for himself playing opposite Yun-Fat Chow in blockbusters like Hard Boiled and Full Contact, and won awards for his portrayal of Wong Chi Hang in the notorious Bunman film.  I watch every Anthony Wong film I can get my hands on; he's a wonderful actor of great range and depth, bringing humanity and a dark, personal humor to even the seediest of roles.  He's also a musician, having released several CDs of idiosyncratic punk/new wave-inspired rock, sometimes accompanied by the metalpunk band Anodize.  His album of covers, Bad Taste-But I Smell Good (2002), is perhaps the most well recognized internationally.  Here's a nifty Anthony Wong page with some good photos, a (Japanese) fan page, and links to my IMDb comments for two of his films [1] [2].  (He should not be confused Anthony Wong Yiu-Ming, another very successful Hong Kong singer and actor, whose music is more the syrupy radio-pop variety.)  [mp3]  [mp3]  [mp3]  Anodize - [mp3]

Second Hand Rose Band - Part of the Beijing scene, Second Hand Rose derive part of their sound from traditional "Northeastern" music, blending Chinese folk instruments into a standard rock format.  Vocalist Liang Long always performs in drag, often in traditional garments.  Musically, they bring to mind 70s glam pop, especially Roxy Music.  Second Hand Rose have also made a splash in Switzerland for some reason, performing at several cultural festivals there.  Here are some Web pages about the band, in German and English.  [mp3]  [mp3]

"Potentially the most blasphemous movie since Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

So they are filming this very heavy movie on my street. The film is called "Across The Universe" and is directed by Julie Taymor (who directed 'Frida'). Guess what the movie is going to be? What the world so needs right now: a baby boomer self-congratulatory sleaze-fest. According to their write-up, it will be "...a psychedelic musical love story using famous Beatles songs as the source for a whirl-wind tour of the sweeping changes the world experienced in the 1960s" And guess who's in it? Bono! Barf? The set designers have shamelessly raped and pillaged the "charming" Lower East Side at the intersection of Rivington and Clinton streets with super-faux, super-cheeseball 1960s ephemera, ham-fisted graffiti, fake store fronts, period cars with "love 'n peace" painted on them... and even piles of fake trash covered in psychedelic colors (piles of trash that are bolted to the sidewalk so no one steals them) Brilliant! I'm used to having my eyes assaulted with crackheads and stabbings and obstacle courses of dog doo... but now this? One business (I think it's a Korean nail salon) has had it's frontage transformed and has now become... that's right: The Black Panthers' headquarters! They even slathered 60s graffiti and a fake beatnik coffee shop sign over the front of ABC No Rio... ugh... please kill me now.

W.C. Fields and International House

My wife Elisabeth is the curator in our home of all things I refer to (sometimes derogatorily) as "old timey":  The Beau Hunks, Betty Boop cartoons, bluegrass music, The Marx Brothers, vintage children's books, the Carter Family, and all films pre-1950.  Not that I don't sometimes take to these things as well, but I go reluctantly, as my aesthetic nerve center draws me elsewhere by nature.  I am often, however, pleasantly surprised after an initial pooh-poohing.

Her latest addition to our collection of things from the "bygone era" is the W.C. Fields Comedy Collection - a 5-disc DVD set that's rapidly winning me over.  First, we watched The Bank Dick (1940), Fields' much-heralded surreal comedy about a hapless, boozing idiot who falls into, out of, and back into good luck.  I suddenly realized where the template for bizarre, free-associated stream of comedy like The Simpsons might have come from.  "Has, uh, Michael Finn been in here today?" Fields asks the bartender, a signal to slip a mickey to Snoopington, the bank inspector.

I wasn't, however, prepared for International House (1933), a wild cinema burlesque of bits, sight gags, risqué jokes and bare skin.  International House is a hotel comedy set in "Wu-Hu, China" -  a precursor to films like California Suite, where big names in idiosyncratic roles hold together a film that's actually about almost nothing. 

A certain Doctor Wong (played by a very un-Chinese Edmund Breese), has invented a cumbersome device called the Radioscope, which displays visual transmissions from all over the world and "needs no broadcast station; no carrier waves are necessary."  Genius!  What a great way to bankrupt the television networks that didn't yet exist.  Interested parties converge on the International House to place their bids on the new device.  Dr. Wong keeps promising, "And now, the six-week bicycle race!" but instead, we see:

-Cab Calloway and His Harlem Maniacs doing "Reefer Man":  "Why, what's the matter with this cat here?" "He's high." "What do you mean he's high?" "Full of weed."

-Baby Rose Marie (eek!) performing "My Bluebird's Singing The Blues."  Yes, that's Rose Marie, later of The Dick Van Dyke Show.  She was even scarier as a kid, and at first glance I thought she may have been a midget.  Must be seen to be believed.

-Rudy Vallee singing a smarmy, religious-themed love song (and being rightly trounced by Fields, who enters the room mid-song:  "How long has this dog fight been going on?")  Fields bad-mouthed Vallee intentionally, violating an agreement between Vallee and director A. Edward Sutherland, who had promised to keep Fields' comments on a leash.

-Colonel Stoopnagle and Budd, a dry-as-parchment duo of radio satirists, presenting sight gag inventions, and the bizarre slogan "Stoopnocracy is Peachy."

Memphis Music Legends On The (Relatively) Big Screen

Ira Sachs' new film Forty Shades Of Blue won the Grand Jury Prize at this year's Sundance Film Festival. The movie stars Rip Torn, in his greatest role since playing Tom Green's temperamental father in Freddy Got Fingered, as an award-winning Memphis record producer, aging lothario, and--once again--temperamental father whose son somewhat predictably falls in love with Torn's young, beautiful, and underappreciated Russian girlfriend. It's a very enjoyable film, and I was pleasantly surprised by the cameo appearances of Memphis music legends Jim Dickinson and Sid Selvidge playing in a band during the film's climactic party scene.

Jim Dickinson is, in all seriousness, one of the greatest record producers of all time. His credits include Big Star's Third/Sister Lovers and the Replacements' Pleased To Meet Me. He also played piano on the Rolling Stones' "Wild Horses." Dickinson's incredible 1972 solo album Dixie Fried was reissued by the Sepia Tone label in 2002.

Jim Dickinson's "O How She Dances" from an archive of Jeffrey Davison's show.

For many decades, Dickinson and Sid Selvidge have played together in a band called Mud Boy And The Neutrons. Their live performances are celebrated extensively in Robert Gordon's canonical book It Came From Memphis. They didn't release an album until well into the 1980s, but the band did back up Selvidge on two of the best songs from his 1976 album The Cold Of The Morning.

Sid Selvidge's "Wished I Had A Dime" from an archive of John Allen's show.

Forty Shades Of Blue plays through October 13th at Film Forum in New York City.

The Horror Compilation (MP3)

As a special Halloween treat, here's a seventy minute long horror music mix I put together for the 2001 WFMU marathon, culled from years of Halloween specials on my Wednesday morning show. When the big day comes, throw a speaker out on the front porch, hook it up to your MP3 player and set it on repeat, this'll keep those satanic dilletantes at bay. Careful though, it's a ginormous download, clocking in at a whopping 97 megs. Download The Horror.

Artists on the mix include: Krzysztof Komeda, Wojciech Kilar, Krzysztof Penderecki, Jaap Blonk, Albanian Men's Choir, John Cale, Dick Jacobs Orchestra, Jerry Goldsmith, Theatre of Tragedy, Barnabas Collins, Endvra, Elend, Coven, Daniel Licht and others. For more info, go here.

This Week in Sex: Dumbass 'R' Us

Butt wait, there's more. A list of things people put up their butts. The medical term for this kind of person: dumbass.

(May I ask where you get a frozen pig's tail? I'm just curious. But not stick-it-up-my-butt curious.)

(I am also curious about "kangaroo tumor." I know I'm not the only one who thinks that's hot. There's at least that one other person.)  [via]

Don't you wish the internet came with instructions? Well, it does. Grab a pen, listen up, and take notes for future reference (mp3).

Take it off all over again. Strippers are back in New Orleans at the recently reopened Déjà Vu club on Bourbon Street. There are no tourists around, but there are plenty of police, firefighters and military personnel, which makes stripping and violating curfew "a public service."

Putting sex on the map. The Museum of Sex is Mapping Sex in America, and you can stick your little pushpin in it. Head to the MoSex site, click on the state where you did or thought or saw the deed, write it down, and regret using your real name.

They found that giant squid nobody believed attacked Captain Nemo in "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," which you will remember was both a memoir of the famous expedition and a documentary movie. The squid doesn't look that giant. But what's the deal with that giant finger? Don't point that thing at me.

Most turkeys are bisexual. And other impressive true scientific happy hour facts I did not make up. (Also useful as tension-breakers at the family Thanksgiving dinner.)

Why buy when you can rent sex toys?

Don't you wish masturbation came with instructions? Well, it doesn't, but it comes with a thesaurus. And a hands-free option.

Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs stab you in the abdomen. Or seal your vaginal opening with a mating plug. I hate when that happens.

Collect them all. Snuggly syphilis makes bedtime fun! You're gonna love gonorrhea!
(venereal diseases and more thanks to Station Manager Ken)
 

This Week in Sex: Sex Ed

Sex isn't all fun and games, you know. Actually, it's mostly no fun and games. Which is why we bring you the Back to School edition of This Week in Sex. Take your hands out of your pockets and get learning, Junior.

Mommy, Daddy, where did the controversy about sexual education come from? Apparently, from this boring 1947 film. You can watch the movie, or just look at the thumbnails featuring a deeply suspicious dad. I prefer the Department of Agriculture sex ed film that takes the sex Ed Wood approach: if you like stock footage, a swelling soundtrack, and rabbit C-sections, this is the film for you.

Movie Club. If you just want to watch something dirty, which I know you do, there are about a kajillion other old  films on the Internet Archive, plus a handy subject index. They have non-sex stuff, too. Actually, it's mostly non-sex stuff. I just don't pay attention to it.

Biology 101. What's inside your boobs? I'm not really sure, but it's disturbingly glowy.

Career Counseling. You say you want to be in radio, but the results of your assessment test say you would make a great Hooters Girl. Congratulations!  Please take your Suntan-colored pantyhose and a copy of your Hooters Handbook, and remember that being sexually harassed is part of the job. (The pantyhose and the sexual harassment parts are just like radio, so don't be too disappointed.)

Linguistics. This guy spent a whole lotta time researching and thinking and writing about about the word cunt. (Whereas I just spent a whole lotta time watching the cunt circus.)

Science Fair. "How many angels fit on the head of a pin?" is a question for theologians, but "How many condoms fit on the head of a penis?" is one we can really wrap our hands around. And by "we" I mean the Science Project geeks, who I hope keep up the good work. A+.

Cosmology. If you think God is being a big dick with this weather, you're right. Rita looks like a big phallus. But if you think Katrina looks like a big fetus, and that means the storm is God's way of punishing us, you're wrong. Plus you're being a big dick.

Community Service. It's not porn, it's charity: make a donation to Katrina relief and see pictures of boobs in the virtual Mardi Gras that is Boobs4BourbonSt. You can donate boobs or money, or both. [via]

P.S. I double-dare you not to look at pets in uniform. (P.P.S. Now I know what I'm getting DJ Bronwyn for Christmas! Don't tell.) [via]

Thanks for the random acts of smut, Station Manager Ken.

Gonadically Speaking, R Shand is The Embalmanization of The Rap Game

U Wanna Be A Grip?

"Listen, learn & comprehend the sheer joyfultudinal sounds as R Shand raps about the eggstimatic joy of being a grip."

"It's raw, uncut, & Bangin G ! Dang...if Shand woulda gone to those classes, his flow mighta been too refineded & sonically correct....and that ain't what's happening in New School."

"Euphemistically speaking, the aural flatulence of his thrombamatic sounds will discombobulate the senses."

"No one has ever quite captured this fecal bliss quite like one R Shand."

"His flow is better than Fitty Sense, he conjures up Nastonian sounds out the Ying Yang twins!"

"Not even Kanye can flow quit like R Shand & gonadically speaking, he is the embalmanization of the Rap game."

"R Shand has bought a bubonic smile to my face like the plague & he has given me esteferic hope for the future of Rap."

"We have seen the future of Hip Hop/R&B & he is called R Shand."

"U Wanna Be a Grip takes rap to a new level! I was taken into a world of rhymes spit out at micro speed and hydro proximate lucidity. These rhymes grip you and send you into spasmatic convulsions of the cranial cortex. I felt so gripped, and no one can gripe about his spitability!!! In other words the boy be baaad..... Thank You R. Shand, I'm gripped and ripped and you are so hip!!!"

"Songs like this need to be on the radio because I get tired of hearing 50 Cent, The Game, and Kanye West talking trash when you have undiscovered talent waiting in the wings like R. Shand!!! He makes me want to become a grip. Thanks for music that will outlast what's hot right now, R. Shand!!! BUY THIS!!!!!!"

Blame should go to Otis Fodder and even more blame to Phil Milstein.

Canto a Go Go

MP3 download Nancy Sit and/or Josephine Siao "Go Go" | Video clip download "I Love A Go Go" (avi, 34 MB)

Blindly trailing the clerk through stacks of old Cantonese musicals that had been converted to VCD, she finally handed me a disc wrapped in a cover boasting nothing particularly distinctive from the rest. "I think you will like this one," she said. Trusting the judgment of strangers was all I could rely upon during my shopping escapades in the record stores of Hong Kong, so I carried the disc up to the counter, keeping my fingers crossed that at least the term "rock and roll" had squeezed through the language barrier. Indeed, it had.

Check out this amazing video clip from the film "I Love A Go Go" (1967) (avi, 34 MB), which stars Josephine Siao (aka Xiao Fangfang/Fong Fong), Nancy Sit (Ka-Yin), Adam Cheng, and Woo Fung (click here if you want to read about the plot). Pay close attention to the gals in hats for their extra fly dance moves. The guitar trio should also recognized for playing their instruments so fast that the chord progressions and solos cannot be detected by the naked eye... And just in case the movie wasn't campy enough already, they threw in a suspicious guy with thick plastic-rimmed glasses, a stick-on moustache, and a cigar for good measure.

You can also download the song featured in this clip right here (MP3), but I'm not quite sure if it's Siao or Sit singing the tune. Nancy Sit was actually a go-go girl back in the 60's, releasing a number of records of both Chinese tunes and covers of English pop songs. She was a featured artist on Girls in the Garage Vol. 9 (click to listen to Sit's cover of "Love Potion No. 9", real audio from an archive of Three Chord Monte with Joe Belock), but from her voice seems a bit lower than the one featured in the movie. It could be Josephine Siao providing the vocal track for her own character, though she is mainly known for her acting career (to further cloud the issue, I dug up what appears to be an album cover picturing Siao, left). Since all roads lead back to New Jersey, I must mention that Siao took a break from acting in 1969 to study Communications at Seton Hall University. If you've got any more info on the go-go ladies of China, please share in the comments section.

Jodorowsky On His Unmade "Dune"

The idea that 1984's sci-fi epic/cash-sucking black hole Dune starred Sting and was scored by Toto when it could have involved Alejandro Jodorowsky (Santa Sangre, El Topo, Holy Mountain), Salvador Dali, H.R. Giger, and scoring by Magma is one of the best reasons for cinephiles to thud their heads repeatedly against hard surfaces and curse the Hollywood machine. Arthur Magazine's blog just put up a few postings on this, including an interview with Jod on the prep work he did before getting booted from the project, why he felt it was important for Dali to get $100,000 an hour to play the lead in Dune, Giger's work, and some of the fantastic spaceship designs Chris Foss worked on:

“Dune had to be made. But what kind of spaceships to use? Certainly not the degenerate and cold offspring of present day American automobiles and submarines, the very antithesis of art, usually seen in science fiction films, including 2001. No! I wanted magical entities, vibrating vehicles, like fish that swim and have their being in the mythological deeps of the surrounding ocean. The ‘galactic’ ships of North American technocracy are a mouse-gray insult to the divine, therefore delirious, chaos of the universe. I wanted jewels, machine-animals, soul-mechanisms. Sublime as snow crystals, myriad-faceted fly eyes, butterfly pinions. Not giant refrigerators, transistorised and riveted hulks; bloated with imperialism, pillage, arrogance and eunuchoid science."

More on this Dune Info page as well, and here's some Real Audio (played on WFMU) of an excerpted segment from one of Jodorowsky's most incredible films, 1973's the Holy Mountain.

A World of Pain

The Coen Brothers' 1998 release The Big Lebowski has taken on beyond-cult status, with an annual gathering of the faithful on two coasts. The 2005 LebowskiFest NY is on the horizon: tickets go on sale today at 3 PM. The Dude abides...

Image of Jesus from http://members.aol.com/WPRob/lebowskibook.html

March of the Mean Penguins

I haven't seen that March of the Penguins movie in a theater, but I got my mitts on a copy.

I don't think it's that great.

At least it's short (gif).

 

Wm's DVD Hit List

DVDs have been around long enough that releases pandering to more obscure tastes are now a given.  (If you remember, it took CDs a while to delve into the farther reaches of "good" taste; now we hardly blink when confronted with a 19-hour G.I. Gurdjieff box set.)  I no longer have any doubt that I will someday hold in my hands DVD reissues of WR: Mysteries of the Organism, Dellamorte Dellamore, Elevator to the Gallows and the works of Kenneth Anger.  There are a few films recently (and not so recently) surfaced on DVD that warrant mention, both for their outstanding quality as films, and for the celebratory fact that someone had the cojones to put these titles out.

The Ultimate Camper-Slasher Film
Forget Friday the 13th.  Forget the whole series.  Jason Voorhees (one of the dullest characters in the horror genre) has nothing on a couple of inbred Virginian twins.  Whatever camp appeal the loosely strung together kill scenes of the Friday series may provide, Just Before Dawn (1980) is guaranteed to thrill on a more sophisticated and cathartic level.  A worthy descendant of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Just Before Dawn has a subtlety and lingering creepiness not seen too often in this genre, i.e., what you don't see, or what you see quickly out of the corner of your eye, is ultimately more unsettling than any graphic gore that could have been provided.  Shriek Show's reissue packs a full 2nd disc of cast and crew interviews, trailers and stills galore.  Click here for my full review posted on the IMDb.

Eye Myth
I’m a whore for the early days of experimental film, especially of the 50s and 60s.  The thoughtfully-assembled, gloriously remastered Stan Brakhage double-DVD on Criterion (rel. summer 2003) was therefore a must-have.  Brakhage’s goal was to liberate the eye from learned perceptions, i.e., "How many colours are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'green'?”  Nowhere is this notion more manifest than in Dog Star Man, presented on disc 1 of the set.  In addition to the images filmed, the actual negative was painted on, scratched and distressed any number of ways.  The result is a fast moving (but not un-soothing) cavalcade of color imagery and superimposition.  That said, the sheer beauty of Dog Star Man, and many of the other films in this collection, will likely keep the uninitiated from feeling bored or over-articized; inasmuch as these are unquestionably experimental works, lacking plot or narrative, they are nonetheless accessible to anyone with a relatively open mind and a set of working eyes.  (Note: Some films in the set are not for the faint-hearted, including unblinking autopsy footage and a live birth; these are not, however, typical of what’s presented.)

Will Smith Does Ozzfest

OK, not really, but he's there. America's favorite ex-rapper, Mr. Will Smith is traveling on this year's Ozzfest. Why? His wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith is the lead singer of a "metal" band called Wicked Wisdom who is playing the second stage daily. Sigh. You know where this is going & it's gonna be ugly. So first, let's briefly talk about Ozzfest. 3/4ths of the performers on the 2nd (smaller) stage have to pay Sharon/Ozzy/Ozzfest Inc. the sum of $100,000 for the privilege of playing. Sound like a good deal? On the surface it seems like perhaps it could be worth it for the exposure (it doesn't to me, but someone's gotta play Devil's Advocate), but your money could be better spent on a publicist for a couple of years for that dough. The "second" stage starts at 9:30am, so whoever plays first (The Haunted the day I went) gets no new audience. Aside from whether or not it's a good idea to pay the money to play, Ozzfest has spots that are coveted by metal bands, new and old.

Horror Auteur: Dante Tomaselli

Dante Tomaselli is a director of films that you, the WFMU listener, the inveterate hipster, ought to know about.  While many modern films are described by critics as homages to 70s horror/fantasy, Dante Tomaselli is a true son of creepy 1970s and 80s genre films, as well as being a son of Northeastern NJ.

His two films currently available on DVD, Desecration (1999) and Horror (2002), both stand as visually engulfing nightmares torn from the psyche of a middle-class suburban kid not unlike yours truly.  Desecration deals with religious and family archetypes via mysterious happenings at a convent school, while Horror is an LSD-tinged crazy quilt of hallucinatory occultism populated by a group of misfit adolescents, also starring The Amazing Kreskin in a lead role.

His latest release, Satan's Playground (2005), involves a vacationing family's encounter with The Jersey Devil.

Dante was kind enough to submit to an e-mail interview, the transcript of which follows:

Wm: First of all, Dante, thank you for taking the time to answer a few questions.  I believe there are a great many film fans here who would benefit from knowing about your work.

DT: Thank you.   

Wm: I own your first two films, Desecration and Horror, on DVD, and have watched both several times with great enjoyment.  Your work seems to be imbued with a vibe that is so specific to coming of age in the 1970s, watching medium-to-low budget horror/fantasy, as I did.  Films like The Sentinel, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark and Jack Woods' Equinox are deeply imprinted on my memory and personal aesthetic.  Can you speak to that influence a bit?

DT: I was 7-years-old when I saw The Sentinel at a Drive-in in 1977. It was a blasphemous film, yet stylish, gothic. And I saw Don't Look Now around that age too. It left a very deep imprint. That knife wielding grinning death dwarf has to be the most nightmarish sight — ever. There is just something about films from that time. They were no-holds-barred. Totally unhinged.

Star Wars 3 Mistranslations

A reposting on Matthew In Beirut, originally from winterson.com, depicting a Chinese bootleg DVD subtitling misadventure of Star Wars 3 (thanks to Robin Edgerton).

Heretic Anthems: The Case for Slipknot

I expect an uphill battle on this topic, especially given the audience.  Those of you who know me from my years on the air ('84-'99), advocating artists like Faust and hanging out with the likes of Jowe Head and La Monte Young, may assume that I've gone completely bonkers.  But in my pre-WFMU years, my taste was informed by a great many other things, like Black Sabbath's Master of Reality, the first Damned album, and "Pay to Cum."  Lovers of hard and heavy music everywhere ought to bypass pre-conceived notions of teenybopper "Nu Metal" in this case, as we all know labels are ultimately meaningless—when you hear it, you either like it or you don't.

Back in mid-2002, I rented the DVD of the movie Resident Evil. What stuck with me from my viewing experience (apart from Milla Jovovich – sigh), was a bonus music video for a song used in the film, by a band that I had always assumed to be a half-assed “rap rock” act ala Insane Clown Posse.  The song was “My Plague” by Slipknot:  great angry lyrics, monster riffs, horror-movie-style latex masks, a giant inverted pentagram backdrop, and fire.  I deemed the band worthy of further investigation (need it be said that I am also quite sympathetic to devilish, “Satanized” imagery?)

What can I say?  With no apologies to the underground musical elite, I became a fan.
Slipknot’s first 2 CDs spoke to the angry, frustrated adolescent in me, and helped me through a lousy time at a lousy job.  Their best songs are hooky anthems of limitless hatred and anger that embed themselves in your brain like a mighty dose of SSRIs.

Deep Red from Beyond The Darkness

Goblin were the greatest rock soundtrack band that ever existed.  Forget Pink Floyd's tossed-off efforts for Barbet Schroeder.  Goblin were the Bernard Herrmann of European thrillers and horror throughout the 70s and 80s, the Nino Rota of eye gouges, beheadings and sex slashings.  They also did the very memorable international score for George A. Romero's Dawn of The Dead (known in Europe as Zombi.)

Led by keyboardist Claudio Simonetti, Goblin wrote pulsating rock scores for over 2-dozen films and television programs, mostly, but not exclusively in Italy.  Their soundtracks incorporated symphonic prog rock, electronic minimalism, eerie soundscapes, disco, exotic ethnic instrumentation, strange whisperings - whatever worked best while Stefania Casini was falling into a room full of barbed-wire coils in Suspiria, or a young Jennifer Connolly communicated telepathically with insect swarms in Phenomena (aka Creepers.)

Paris Becomes Land of the Dead, or an Exercise in the "Six Degrees of Separation" Theory

WARNING!! GRAPHIC GROSSNESS APPROACHETH!!  I can see the question marks over your heads already... it's really very simple. I witnessed an event on my recent trip to Paris that made me think I was in the new George A. Romero film, "Land of the Dead", or at least on the special effects lot. Oddly enough, I had just been to the catacombs - foreshadowing has never been so obvious.  On the Seine, a river known for the beauty that surrounds it, I hop on one of those giant tour boats for a spin up around Notre Dame and back to kill about an hour. It's the equivalent to the NY Circle Line. I'm on the top deck snapping pix of the bridges from underneath, the amazing architecture lining the Seine & just trying to ignore the obnoxious tourists on this vehicle. I, of course, am far from obnoxious and minding my own business. It starts to rain a bit & I go downstairs to the glass enclosed area, sheltered but still easy to take a gander at what Paris has to offer from here. There I am standing in the front of the boat next to a gentleman who I took no notice of previously (and that would change SOON) staring out the huge windows. The rain kicks up a notch and a gust of wind slams shut one of the giant glass and metal doors at the front of the boat. The tourist next to me (a middle aged asian man) turns to me with his left hand raised vertically, knuckles toward me and lets out a grunt/uhhuhhhhgh/death metal rumble sound. I look at his hand and make a similar sound back to him, definitely more high pitched, less like a death metal vocal than he did, perhaps a bit more black metal. His fingers had been cut off below the first (top) knuckle...

Magma video clips

Sing along in Kobaian to some wild clips of French prog masters Magma in live performance. These clips (Windows Media) from 1977 are a bit grainy but still pretty hot. Listener Alan Blattberg who sent them my way points out that the non-Christian Vander drummer is eerily similar to Deputy Junior from Reno 911. There's also this bizarre 1972 outtake (also Windows) from a film where Magma make a cameo performing in a futuristic church, while the priests sit calmly looking on, only getting a little riled when Vander goes apeshit at kit near the end. Finally, a more recent clip (Quicktime) of Vander playing solo and being interviewed in French. Incidentally, their first new studio disc in 17 years, K.A. rules, and here's a Real Audio excerpt of "K.A. III" from Bill Zurat's show.

Homolka to Hollywood

The biggest headline in Canada right now is the release of convicted murderess Karla Teale, nee Karla Homolka. This story naturally, barely creates a blip on our radar here in the states, but I've been obsessed with this case for years. The first term I ever put in a search engine was "Ken and Barbie murders" for gawd's sake, only to find that the Canadian government had managed to quash the horrifying details of the crimes even online, creating early discussions about net censorship.

Leave it to Hollywood, oh excuse me, "independent film producers" to step right up with a bio-pic about Homolka and her relationship with husband and partner-in-crime Paul Bernardo called Deadly.  While I could see say, a young Dave Foley or Jude Law (if he wasn't already busy doing his Ian Curtis poses) in the role of Bernardo, I couldn't immediately think of an actress who could capture the oeuvre of the seductive and twisted Karla.

Apparently, neither could Deadly's producers, but they cast That 70's Show actress Laura Prepon anyway. Mmm-rirrght a 5'10" redhead with a deadpan alto Central Jersey accent could portray a diminutive cooing Lolita-ish Canuck killer, I don't think so. Where the heck was Elisha Cuthbert or Victoria Jackson circa 1985? This flick will drain the life out of this story faster than...oh, never mind.

The Cable Report 07/05/05 (TV That Scared the Crap Out of Me)

In tribute to TV Land's "Greatest Made-For-TV Movies Of All Time" campaign (this week, and next, I believe), I'm firing up a Cable Report.

The Day After
The preceding parental advisories were more than warranted. I've begun to mentally compile a list of grocery store freak out scenes, and The Day After has a spendid one. Watching this again, I was knocked back by the unrelenting bleakness, the degree of bickering insanity amongst the characters, and the special FX are not too shabby - look for the signature explosion scenes in which victims are x-rayed as if part of a cartoon. Additionally, who can argue with ANY Jason Robards appearance.

V.
This mini-series did nothing if it didn't convince me that my parents were face-peeling aliens. The scare lasted weeks, and was eventually replaced by the belief that my Mom was trying to abandon me in the middle of Sears.

Salem's Lot
I'd venture a guess that some of you didn't even know! It sucks so bad now, because it was a TV movie then. Not to discredit TV movies as a whole, but you wanted scary and gory, and this is neither. To note: Salem's Lot did prominently feature Geoffrey Lewis, father of Juliette, and the ultimate on-screen sidekick. Speaking of character actors, and as such, getting completely off track here, who knows the name Michael G. Hagerty? Let's end with a nod to Michael G. Hagerty:

For years, I was hell bent on the misconception that Michael G. Hagerty was John Candy's brother. The pop-culturally semi-literate will know him as the Mike Duffy in the "AAMCO" episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. His bio on IMDB.com reads as follows:

"Graduated from the University of Illinois. He worked at Chicago's Second City. He now lives in Los Angeles.

Often plays vendors or merchants."

Multi Cult-y

Super volunteer Taso alerted me to these Real Audio links for each track of L. Ron Hubbard's album, The Road to Freedom, celebrity vocal lineup included. Listen at your own risk:

"The Road to Freedom" performed by John Travolta, Leif Garrett, Frank Stallone, Lee Purcell
"The Way to Happiness" performed by Leif Garrett, Gayle Moran, Nicky Hopkins
"The Worried Being" performed by Amanda Ambrose
"The Evil Purpose" performed by Frank Stallone
"Laugh A Little" performed by Michael Roberts, Pam Roberts, Margie Nelson
"The Good Go Free" performed by David Pomerantz
"Why Worship Death?" performed by Chick Corea, Julia Migenes
"Make It Go Right" performed by David Pomerantz
"The Arc Song" performed by John Travolta, Karen Black, Jeff Pomerantz, Frank Stallone, Lee Purcell, Gloria Rusch
"L'envoi, Thank You for Listening" performed by L. Ron Hubbard

I'm counting down the days until Hubbard releases a collection of B-sides and unreleased material, as we're obviously missing "Get Famous, Get to Heaven First," "$360 Gs to Salvation," and "(Shout Shout) Get the Aliens Out."

Click here for access to a boatload of mind-control MP3s that are sure to make you obey, including one of L. Ron Hubbard's hits. Or check out this post for an expose on our favorite celebs that roll with L. Ron.

The Toughest Movies Ever Made

Prime Cut (1972)

Simple. Gene Hackman runs hookers out of a meatpacking plant and Lee Marvin (in a suit) chases him through a field with a machine gun. Not only is this the toughest movie ever made, that was the toughest sentence ever written.

Death Hunt (1981)

Again, this is very simple. Charles Bronson, Lee Marvin, Carl Weathers, and Ed Lauter run around in the middle of a Canadian nowhere and a lot of blood flows. A lot of blood…in a Peckinpah way. A man gets his arm caught in a bear trap, and in lieu of getting morphine or any sort of treatment, he gets PUNCHED OUT. Lee Marvin repeatedly kicks the dead body of a comrade, yelling, “You dumb son of a bitch!!!”

The French Connection (1971)

There’s really only one scene in The French Connection: When Popeye Doyle (a 41-year-old Gene Hackman) leaves a bar at dawn, trashed, and manages to pick up a beautiful girl riding her bike around his crappy neighborhood. This scene is tough…tough to believe.

Love Liza (2002)

Tough. Tough to sit through.

Cannonball  (1976)

Paul Bartel’s unfunny account of the elicit coast-to-coast race was the first movie that disturbed me with violence. A good example of how PG-rated violence in the 70’s would be R-rated violence today. Cars crush people, and they bleed from the mouth. Drivers are head-shot by snipers, and it contains a Carradine.

Capsular Reviews of Anything 1.1

Out of the Blue  (1980)

Dennis Hopper runs up and down the hallway, waving his hands and screaming. Dennis Hopper sits at the breakfast table, drunk, waving his arms and screaming. Linda Manz, later of Gummo "fame" (Solomon's mom), runs away to carouse around with a "punk rock" band. Not much fits in-between the (these) lines, here. An entertaining wreck (no pun intended).

The Ice Pirates (1984)

This is the eleventh or twelve movie that I remember seeing in the theater. Condorman was the fourth, and The Black Hole was the first. The all-knowing North Pole glowing crystal that creates the universal star rating system is pulling one over on me. This movie got two stars. The climax is loaded with pre-MTV scatter-brained editing tricks. Oddly "name" cast with Robert Urich, Anjelica Huston, Ron Pearlman (ok, ok), and a Carradine.

The Ballad of the Whiskey Robber (2004...it's a book)

Best true crime I've read in months, and I read the living shit out of true crime. This past Christmas, I went on a cruise with my mother. When I wasn't drunk (afternoons at pool and prior to daily nap), I read the 2003 and 2004 editions of The Best American Crime Writing in the space of a week. Totally engaging, easy, and addictive. Scary Monsters and Super Freaks is in the same territory, but more entertainment biz related. Perfect vacation fare. In order to fit in better on the pool deck, I purchased Robin Cook's Seizure from the duty-free shop, but I couldn't dance with that thing. The Nashvillian real estate agent sunning next to me was engrossed in Robert B. Parker's Stone Cold, but we're veering into fiction here, with my only point being that THIS BOOK, the story of Attila Ambrus, is a must and erases all other true crime...for now.

Do's & Don'ts: 10 Years of Vice Magazine's Street Fashion Critiques

Do your research. There is a picture of a corpse-painted Black Metaller. The caption refers to him as "Speed Metal" and goes on to make a tired joke about metalheads huffing glue or suffering from incest down the line or something. Practitioners of speed metal do not wear corpse paint. I felt like I was reading Andy Rooney on Metal, if, of course, that existed.

Every Thin Lizzy album before and including Chinatown

...is worth owning. Why, at this late stage in the game, do I have to keep telling people this?

Capsular Reviews of Anything 1.0

Murphy’s Law (1986) (edited for TV version)

It is a wonder that I can continue to find points to make about Charles Bronson. He cannot pull off the drunken, washed-up cop, but does deliver some of his best zingers: “Can you count to five?” “Yes” “How ‘bout with no teeth?!?” The forty three year age gap between Kathleen Wilhoite’s Arabella and Bronson’s Jack Murphy make for disturbing sexual innuendos, and in the scoured version, her expletives are replaced with the timeless “Barf Bag!!” and “Dog Snot!!” An odd-couple-on-the-run classic.

Crash (2004) (new Tony Danza vehicle, not Ballard adaptation)

For a preachy, wallowing, disappointing, predictable, Magnolia Jr., this is not bad.

 
Prom Night (1980)

Old men arguing with one another: 97% Actual horror: 3%

Karate Sound Effects

Life without karate sound effects is not worth living. (MP3 of "Stick Fight" from Bruce Lee's Game of Death.)

"Up your giggy with a wah-wah brush..."

Since 1984 the arrival of Memorial Day weekend means the disembarking of thousands of sailors and marines in New York City as part of Fleet Week. Pier 88 on the Hudson River is where you'll find their ships, including the USS John F. Kennedy (Big John), an aircraft carrier more properly thought of as your tax dollars afloat.

This is from the NYC.gov website: "As the Navy's premier community event, Fleet Week New York City is a week long event honoring our nation's maritime heritage. Fleet Week will include dozens of military demonstrations and displays throughout the week, as well as public visitation of many of the participating ships." (Someone needs to do a study and find out just how many Fleet Week babies are conceived during this "public visitation").

Walking around Manhattan and seeing knots of sailors in pea coats and flat hats always puts me in mind of one of my favorite movies of the 1970's, The Last Detail. Based on a book by Darryl Ponicsan with a screenplay by Robert Towne and directed by Hal Ashby (Harold and Maude, Shampoo), the film follows Billy "Bad Ass" Buddusky (Jack Nicholson) and "Mule" Mulhall (Otis Young) as they escort kleptomaniac recruit Larry Meadows (Randy Quaid, in his first role) to a Navy brig. It's a thoroughly naturalistic, bittersweet character study and boasts one of Jack Nicholson's finest performances (he hadn't yet descended into self-caricature). The film doesn't have a single dishonest moment. Get yourself some Heineken ("That's the beer John F. Kennedy drank!"), some hot dogs on sticks and watch it this weekend with a swabbie.

Meadows:    If you're Catholic, do you think it's a sin to chant?

Budduskey: Did it get you laid?

Meadows:    No.

Budduskey: Then Meadows, what the fuck do you want to go on chanting for?

Duty now for the future

Some nerd passed this story along to me, since I’m the resident out-of-the-closet geek around here... It would appear that the top futurist (pictured left, not a Russian Futurist (real audio of “The Plight of the Flightless Birds” from a fill-in show by Bob W.)) at some think tank is telling the egghead community that we’ll be able to download our memories into computers by 2050, creating artificial consciousness just like some movie you might have seen. But perhaps more alarming is this claim by our clairvoyant illuminati:

"The new PlayStation is 1 per cent as powerful as a human brain."

You can click here to read up on all minute details of the future, according to our expert (left), from capitalism to yogurt.

But don't get too excited yet, there’s always the chance that such high hopes for the future could be thwarted by the findings of future research. I’ll bet the dudes behind the recent Time Traveler Convention were absolutely crestfallen when they read about this study concerning the plausibility of traveling through wormholes. I suppose they could team up with the teleportation pundits to formulate a revised plan of action.

I see London, I see France

Apparently, the Dept. of Homeland Security will not heed the warnings offered via fictional foreshadowing on the topic of x-ray vision. Sure, seeing naked people walk through the airport was a jolly good time in Airplane!, but what have we learned from the tortured souls burdened with this superpower?

Get down in your skivvies to X Ray Spex "The Day the World Turned Dayglo" (real audio, from an archive of Stefan's show, Belly of the Beast)

Or get fired up about bon voyage voyeurism by spending some time with our own X Ray Burns on the Glen Jones Radio Programme.

Nice Girls Don't Wear Cha Cha Heels

MP3: Razormaid remixes "Cha Cha Heels" (excerpt)

I was listening to Sigue Sigue Sputnik's "Jayne Mansfield" (click for real audio, from an archive of Diane's Kamikaze Fun Machine), and realized that the song contains a reference to cha cha heels. Of course, this term was popularized in the 1974 John Waters flick, Female Trouble, by the ultra-fabulous juvenile delinquent Dawn Davenport ("I'm a thief and a shitkicker... and I want to be famous!").

Exploring the topic further, I discovered that Bronski Beat had written a song for Divine (aka Harris Glenn Milstead) to record, entitled "Cha Cha Heels." Unfortunately Divine passed away before the tune was recorded, but as a tribute, Eartha Kitt offered to lay down the vocals. The result is available above as an MP3, as remixed by Razormaid. Divine did manage to record a few tracks before her departure, and WFMU's DJ Monica was all over that drag queen sass... check out "Native Love (Step By Step)" (real audio) for a fix.

And be sure to get yourself a proper pedicure before slipping into a pair of cha chas. (Thanks for that one, Metafilter)

Chiller Theatre Expo - Not So Scary (well, maybe) Seen Report

Movies, Toys, washed up tv celebs, full fledged rock stars, idolized actors, people in costume, special effects gurus, bats - real ones, tattoo notaries, magazine publishers, and the dorky collector who only comes out of his cave to collect more crap & then store it in mom's basement (where they still live) - they were all there 3 weeks ago at the Spring 2005 Chiller Theatre Toy, Model & Film Expo in Secaucus. It takes the entire weekend to sift through everything - here's the rundown; I hope you have a hour...  There are several innovative toy manufacturers now, one there was Living Dead Dolls  - a ghoulish twist on the girly doll; pictured here is Redmond Gore, a Teddy Scares creation - cuddly and scary - each bear has it's own bio... Redmond, for instance used to be a bus driver and his favorite color was BLOOD RED. Redmond, of course, is dead. Other vendors there specialized in Nightmare Before Christmas goodies (yes, still), japanese toys; even welded action figures. On to the meat of the show; the dreaded celebrities; Tonya Harding was there, selling ice skates, boxing trunks and I'm sure her mother if you'd take her.

Keanu in code

A scene from The Matrix rendered in ASCII. No comment.

Via Persian Eye

Do Something Dreadful to Your Television

It's no great secret that TV SUCKS. But the seemingly endless collection of  RealMedia clips housed at TV Ark do a fantastic job of re-writing some local history. Folks who are native to WFMU's broacast area can sort the collection to feature just the New York City material, and will subsequently lose countless hours while plowing through ancient promo clips of 11 Alive's Action News helmet-haired newsteam, Channel 9's Million Dollar Movie intro, Emergency Broadcast System tests, public affairs promo spots, and other wonderfully primitive works of videography. If you listen to WFMU from elsewhere in the country, you can sort the clips for your area with this link. (Via Mr. Science's X818)

Vienese Actionist Films (1970)

Otto Muehl Manopsychotisches Ballett (1970)

What could be more fun than Vienese Actionist films? You know the Vienese Actionists, don't you? They were a bunch of Austrian artists in the 60s who sliced open cows and rolled around naked fucking each other, soaked in animal blood. While most of this stuff has been relegated to the dustbin of art history (with the exception of Hermann Nitsch), we've uncovered a prime document of the period by gang leader Otto Muehl. It's a film in two parts and features all sorts of great stuff: nudity, fist fucking, animal sacrifice, dildos and group groping, all to the strains of Charlotte Moorman's cello. True art, in our humble opinion. via UbuWeb

Pseu Braun Sells Out To Best Buy

The film that was called "the best rock documentary since Gimme Shelter" by, uh, someone, "DIG!", is out on DVD. Double DVD. Double DVD with a special CD exclusive to Best Buy. "GULP", you people think; "what the hell is going on here? What is up with the Best Buy plug?" Well, there is nothing I can do about the Best Buy plug, but me needs go give a huge shout out and congratulations to WFMU's very own Pseu Braun for getting her interview (unedited, btw) with Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre included on this very major release exclusive to the national retailer. This is the film that sort of studies the celebrity deathmatch style goings-on between BJM and the Dandy Warhols and more or less went head to head with Metallica's "Some Kind of Monster" at Sundance. You can listen to the full Brian Jonestown Massacre live broadcast and the interview that Pseu conducted on October 24, 2003 with Anton here,
But check out the DVD cover with special sticker alterting the savvy consumer to the particular version with the limited edition CD included, and the CD listing itself that credits her along with WFMU, without any typos. If you buy your own copy, you'll be pleased to see the Best Buy logo on the bottom of the cd sleeve that I lopped off for space considerations here. And if you haven't already, you might just want to actually check the movie out.

Six degrees, indeed

The task at hand seemed simple: dig up the dirt on early-80’s SF new wave band, BOB. With the internet at my disposal, I’d just pick up a few brief factoids, report to the blog readers, and then get back to twirling my hair and filing my nails. But oh, the tangents I discovered!

First things first. Delve into this nugget, BOB “The Things That You Do” (MP3). The tune was extracted from a self-titled single released on Dumb Records out of SF in 1980. A decidedly lethargic version of this song also appears on their "Backwards" album that was released on the label 3 years later. I wanted more info, but imagine the search terms I could possibly use in this situation: bob, dumb, San Francisco. Real helpful. Ok, so I was able to find a few useful facts...

Releases by Dumb Records
Ixna “Mi Ne Parolas” (click for Real Audio) Marina La Palma and Jay Cloidt, vocals in Esperanto.
Novak “Oh Farrah” single
The Survivors
Other Music (released on Nth Degree, a Dumb sublabel)

Now it gets really weird. I start searching for BOB’s members: Jim Lively, Dewey Bruse, Margret Blanche... found a few real estate agent name-twins, but still no BOB info. Then, wait, I live in a hole and I recognize this name... Pons Maar! That’s right, holy shit, this dude was not only BOB’s drummer, but also the Lead Wheeler in Return to Oz, the lizard-man in Masters of the Universe, the lead character in the TV show “Dinosaurs” AND the voice of the Noid! His website of art/video clips is here. Maar only appeared as BOB's drummer on the single, and was replaced by Dze Bayles by the time their LP was released.

On a side note, I learned that Return to Oz is apparently some sort of portal to my subconscious (I blamed the film for my childhood nightmares of animated mannequin heads on this very blog a few weeks ago). And thus, my adventure has come full-circle.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Or perhaps what you might want to do on yours... This year mark's the 30th anniversary of a movie I never get tired of watching; Steven Spielberg's blockbuster, JAWS. There will be a celebration in Martha's Vineyard, the original filming site - this summer, June 3-5th, called JawsFest '05. Highlights will include an island-wide scavenger hunt of production sites, tours, a JawsFeast (wonder if that features chum and license plates as entrees), trivia contests & other Jaws themed events.The local YMCA will even get in on the action by hosting a swim for kids called "the shark in the pond!" If you're not in the mood to take the trek to Martha's Vineyard, feast your eyes on this, a 30 second animated version of the movie, using bunnies as characters, courtesy of Angry Alien Productions. You'll reminisce for about a second, or thirty. And who knew the shark's name was Bruce?

Hey, Big Fella

Admittedly, I do like a little height to my men. So do the people behind Giants and Girls dot com , a small site dedicated to big scary dudes and the babes who try to outrun them.

They've got several categories to explore, with my personal favorite being the laboratory section, which features stills from the most traumatizing movie I ever saw as a child, The Brain That Wouldn't Die. Of course, if you're just looking for some straight-up Richard Kiel, you'll want to check out page 4 of the Prehistoric gallery, and page 2 of the Modern gallery.

Here's a related treat: Ted Cassidy (Lurch) narrates the intro to The Incredible Hulk (mp3)

Induce an epileptic fit

Right here (quicktime).

via Swound MP3 blog

Ode to the Vee-Dub

Mike Lupica’s last post mentioning his favorite teenage past-time of destroying shopping carts using his VW Rabbit made me all teary-eyed and nostalgic… my first car was also a VW Rabbit (’83 convertible, holla’). Alas, we reminisced about the endearing mechanical misgivings of the Volkswagen anymodel, circa late-70s through mid-80’s, and discovered that our vehicles had oh-so-many maladies in common.

Here is the shortlist of our favorite vee-dub idiosyncrasies:

1. Temperamental horn or oil alarm
2. Simultaneous malfunction of speedometer, odometer, and gas gauge
3. Water dripping on feet while driving in rainy weather
4. Side window/rear view mirror spontaneously detaching
5. Sh-sh-shudder if driven over 80 mph

VW-inspired tunes from the WFMU archives (click to hear Real Audio):
Il y a Volkswagen “Kill Myself”
Gilberto Gil “Volks, Volkswagen Blue”
Os Incriveis “If My VW Bug Could Talk”

To further establish the divinity of the VW Rabbit, this ’84 beast that runs on used veggie oil says it all. Take that, Delorean.

And speaking of garbage-powered vehicles from the future... Crispin Glover (interview, Real Audio) swung by WFMU last week for a chat with Pseu Braun.

Creepy mannequins

This morning as I stumbled into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee, I was greeted by an inanimate stranger: Debra Manikin, as introduced by the label on her neck.* Automatically, I flashed to that scene from Return to Oz (mpeg download) where the evil Princess Mombi threatens to remove Dorothy’s cranium for display in her gallery of bitchy mannequin heads that come to life, a source of many of my childhood nightmares.

As the coffee worked its magic, I recalled the gleefully absurd plot of Mannequin (1987), in which the lead character creates a mannequin so perfect he falls in love with it… then she comes to life as a misplaced ancient Egyptian, and together they create beautiful window displays. Yep. And Princess Mombi fades back into my subconscious, resuming her small role in controlling my daily decisions.

A few lullabies for Debra (Real Audio from the WFMU archives):

Mannequin “Romanticizing Again”
Wire “Mannequin”
Mothers of Invention “Plastic People”
Senor Coconut y su Conjuto “Showroom Dummies” (Kraftwerk cover)

*Logical explanation: roommate in cosmetology school = mannequin head clamped to countertop.

Celebrate VHS Voyeurism

The Found Footage Festival, a screening of video oddities salvaged from the bowels of thrift stores, garbage dumpsters, and yard sales across the country, is coming to NYC this month. Watch the trailer here (Quicktime movie, not safe for work). Highlights include a totally radical Wendy’s training video, hypothetical accidents that come to life in a clip from an insurance company tape, and a prima donna RV informational video host with a potty mouth. The festival comes to Galapagos Art Space (Brooklyn) on Fri. 3/25, 8pm.

Thanks to Irwin for passing the info along.

How to Procrastinate: Tip No. 7—Seriously, Beware of The Blog

Every time I check out this blog, or post to this blog, or think about this blog, or try not to think about this blog, the insanely infectious Burt Bacharach song “Beware of the Blob” starts up in my skull. Station Manager Ken will think I don’t realize that “Beware of the Blog” is a clever allusion to the B-movie featuring an enormous, hostile liver, but he basically thinks I’m retarded, which means I have to make it clear that I get the blob/blog joke. I get it, but that doesn’t make the loop in my head any less aggravating.

In case you’re not familiar with the tune, I found an mp3 snippet that should be just big enough to lodge itself in one of the furrows in your brain like a piece of popcorn in your back teeth. If you want the whole song (and you have been warned), you can listen for the classic version by The Five Blobs on Dave the Spazz’s show, or the Guy Kluczevek cover on Greasy Kid Stuff. Here are the lyrics, smartypants, in case you think you have managed to elude the Blob:

Beware of the Blob
It creeps
And leaps
And glides
And slides
Across the floor
Right through
The door
And all around the wall
A splotch, a blotch
Be careful of the Blob

(repeat x infinity)

The most maddening thing of all is that I have a sure-fire way to delete annoying songs from my internal iTunes. Simply sing, out loud, in its entirety,“Chapel of Love” by  the Dixie Cups. This will erase the offending song while not itself getting stuck in your head, like a refreshing palate cleanser. Works every time.

So why is the Blob beating the Dixie Cups in the smackdown for my limited brain bandwith? 

Next time: smarter-sounding words (for porn).

Separated at Birth?

K.D. Lang and Best Supporting Actor nominee Clive Owen make like Mary Magdalene and pray for bigger, better goody bags at tonight's Oscars.

How to Procrastinate: Tip No. 1—The Internet

Since the mists of Time began to clear, and the beginnings of Life began to coalesce in the Primordial Sea, and maybe a stray spark from a lightning bolt or whatever accidentally caused a blob of goo to congeal into something that could use a qwerty keyboard, Man has wondered, “Why are we here?”

The Internet is the answer to this question. Actually, it doesn’t answer the question, but it makes it easier to avoid, which in my book is as good as answering it.

Andy Warhol once said that the most difficult thing in life is figuring out what to do with the next ten minutes. At least I think he said that (I could look it up but I’m writing this right now so I’ll get to it in a sec). He’s more famous for that famous-for-fifteen-minutes thing. Man, he sure rode that one to the bank. Anyway, I don’t think he would mind having things he didn’t say attributed to him. In addition to reproducing mass-produced images, this guy made an 8-hour shot of the Empire State Building into a movie. Hey, if you want to fill some time, you could either 1) go see that movie, or 2) stare at this picture for 8 hours.

The thing with the movie is that it is actually 8 hours and 5 minutes, so at 7 hours and 55 minutes you might want to think about what you’re going to do with the 10 minutes after the film is over. I’m just giving you the heads up.

In order to procrastinate effectively, you must chose something to avoid. Without the delicious frisson of guilt hovering at the fringes of your chosen activity, you will not be procrastinating, but merely wasting time.

Let me recommend: getting a life. To be clear: the thing you are avoiding is “getting a life.” You can be more specific (avoid getting out of your chair, or avoid getting your job done, or even better, avoid getting a job), but I urge you to Dream Big. I once worked with someone who said, “Reach for the stars and maybe you’ll hit  the lamppost,” which seemed like a dumb-ass thing to say. Why would I want to hit a lamppost?  I’m a lazy mofo, but I’m not a vandal. At any rate, I don’t work there anymore so I don't have to listen to that crap.

In conclusion, though the official story is that the internet was invented by the military/Al Gore to communicate top-secret info/bore us into a drooling coma, this is only partly true. It was invented by the military so we could park ourselves in front of the pretty pixels and look at porn instead of going outside to play.

OK, I’ll keep this short. I know you have things to not-do.  Mine is not-blogging.

Next time: porn.

Filming "Guest of Cindy Sherman"

Hello, Everybody, nice seeing you again.

On Thursday DJ Kelly and I had to go out to the station to be filmed for a documentary called “Guest of Cindy Sherman.”  Maybe some of you heard “The Kelly Jones Show, Starring Bronwyn Carlton” last May 25 (it’s in the archives) when we answered Listener Paul H-O’s request for advice as to how to deal with his famous girlfriend. We guessed it was Cindy Sherman and that turned out to be right. Now he’s making a film about his problem, and he wanted us to be in it.

I used to think that people who wrote fiction were actually making up the stories, but then I met some fiction writers and found out that most of it is just thinly-veiled autobiography. That was a little disillusioning, although then I started writing fiction myself. Anyway, it turns out that documentaries are similar: When you watch them you think you’re seeing something just the way it happens, but actually it’s all pretty much staged. They wanted us to re-enact the show we did last May, and I was hoping it would be like Civil War re-enactors and we’d get cool uniforms and get to make our own bullets and stuff, but it wasn’t like that at all.

First, it was really hard to schedule the shoot, because Listener Paul H-O is working with real film crew guys who are all working on multiple projects, and I work at my weird dayjob where it’s hard to get a day off, and of course DJ Kelly is a delicate hothouse flower and must be scheduled for the exact day she is in bloom. Plus we needed to film in Studio A, so we had to pick a day when everyone could get there AND our engineer, John Fog, wasn’t doing maintenance  AND the DJ whose show we would disrupt would agree to broadcast from Studio B. Thanks to DJ Diane Kamikaze for letting us have the studio during her regularly scheduled show, we were able to shoot for 3 hours on Thursday. DJ Volunteer Director Scott was invaluable, too—he spent hours helping the crew work out all the technical audio stuff. Program Director Brian helped a lot with scheduling, and Station Manager Ken peeked in the window, and I know DJ Special Events Director Mike did something, because he always does.

Anyway, it was sort of stressful. There were big lights everywhere and cameral guys and then, because one film crew wasn’t enough, Phil and Lauren came in to film the filming of the Paul H-O documentary for the WFMU documentary. DJ Kelly and I were sitting in the middle of the maelstrom, and they told us to relax and just do our show the way we normally do, except not with bed music and maybe the director was going to feed us lines through our headphones. I guess it went okay, though—they kept telling us it was good. Then we changed clothes and invented a completely made-up show where we had Listener Paul H-O into the studio and interviewed him. If you ever see the movie, you’ll know that part documents not a real show that we ever actually did but the show that we pretended  in retrospect that we had done.

I liked all the film guys very much, and the only thing that bothered me about the whole experience was when we were doing the faux show and they had us introduce it by saying something like, “Now that we found out that Paul H-O’s girlfriend really is Cindy Sherman, we wanted him to come in and talk to us in person.” That made it sound like we were celebrity suck-ups, and it’s something I would never do—have someone come on a show just because they were famous or knew someone famous. We were genuinely interested in Listener Paul H-O’s problem, but it didn’t matter to us who his girlfriend really was.

Paul H-O is planning to have a screening of the film “Guest of Cindy Sherman” next summer, so keep an eye out for that. DJ Kelly and I plan to arrive at the screening as if it’s a big premiere and we’re huge stars. I want us to wear sparkly dresses and arrive in a white stretch VW Beetle.

When I got home on Thursday I opened my mail and found I’d been invited to Petra Nemcova’s tsunami disaster benefit at the club NA. Petra Nemcova is the Czech supermodel who got her pelvis shattered in the tsunami and held on to a palm tree for 8 hours while her photographer boyfriend was washed away. I have no idea how I got on the list for this event, which featured “special guest host supermodels Jessica Miller, Anne V., and actress Rashida Jones” and even listed the name of the celebrity doorperson who was going to be letting people inside—not a celebrity who was acting as doorperson, but somebody who does that for a living and is therefore a celebrity in and of themselves. Obviously someone made a big mistake. I am a middle-aged suburban housewife and not even a DJ any more, although I play one in documentaries. I hope they made a lot of money for the tsunami victims, though.
Thanks for reading my blog entry, and may God Bless.
-Bronwyn C.