WFMU's Beware of the Blog

The King of Marvin Gardens

In my world, it's almost never a bad time to watch a bleak, neo-realistic 70s Hollywood drama.  These were often simple human stories, told in a sometimes opaque and slowly evolving fashion, populated by complex, layered characters.  Remember when movies didn't need to spell everything out for the dimwitted, AND carry a 30-minute epilogue?  Well I do.  Keep your Spielberg blockbusters, Sundance channel indie charmers, your Harry Potter movies and your Lord Of The Rings trilogy.  Give me Electra Glide in Blue, The Panic In Needle Park or Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore.

The other night I sat down to re-watch an old favorite, The King of Marvin Gardens, from 1972.  King... is especially relevant here, as the principal character, David Staebler (played by Jack Nicholson), is a free-form DJ of sorts, a morose autobiographical storyteller, representative of a style prevalent on the FM band during the late 60s and early 70s, though barely present today.  Staebler's stories are told in a slow, patient style that would never stand amongst modern computer-ordained commercial FM formats.  The character's closest modern equivalent might be public radio storytelling giant Joe Frank.

David, a doleful loner, is called away from his nighttime air slot and grim 2-story Philadelphia flat to Atlantic City, by his troublesome wheeler-dealer brother Jason, played by Bruce Dern.  In recent years, Dern had performed memorable turns as a psychotic guardian of Earth's last botanical garden in the moody Sci-Fi thriller Silent Running (1972), and as the last guy you'd want as an LSD-tour companion in Roger Corman's The Trip (1967), the latter written by Nicholson.  Dern and Nicholson had already worked together on several films, including Drive, He Said, Jack's directorial debut from the previous year.  The wonderful Ellen Burstyn (see Alice... above) also stars as the sweet nut-job Jason's been shacking up with.

From the WFMU News Vault: Local Coverage

This week:  Local news coverage from past and present.

Recent coverage:  The December 4, 2005 Bergen Record featured WFMU in "the third of a 5-part series looking at people who help shape alternative culture".  Music & Program Director Brian talks about his favorite music, including Sun City Girls, Jason Forrest, and Southeast Asian Blink 182 wannabes:  "To me, it's interesting to hear a band from Southeast Asia try to be like Blink 182. I don't know why. I don't even have any Blink 182 records."  The complete article can be read here.

Past coverage: Thanks to Listener Ed for sending this article from the Newark News of September 13, 1969.  It is about the closing of WFMU in 1969, as mentioned earlier in this blog, "following a conflict between the school and station personnel".   

Still More Nazi Swing Music (MP3s)

Last March, I posted what I thought was the first volume of music by Charlie and His Orchestra, a Nazi big band assembled by Hitler's minister of propaganda, Joseph Goebbels. You can find that post and all 22 tracks from it here. It turns out that what I posted was actually the second volume of this material, so here are the 22 tracks from volume one.

Charlie and His Orchestra was led by Karl Schwendler, an English speaking German who broadcast Nazi-themed swing and big-band hits every night on the medium-wave and short-wave bands throughout the 1930s to Canada, the US and Britain. Leave it to Goebbels to take the music of The Andrews Sisters, Paul Whiteman and Irving Berlin and fill it with venomous rants against Jews, America and the British. The man took his propaganda seriously. But at least he admitted it was propaganda, unlike the current crop of spin-meisters.

In a 1928 speech, Goebbels expounded on his then-radical theories of manipulation. What he said then seems today to be cutting edge meme-ology, and provides an insight into why he favored using the most popular music of the day to spread his message of hate:

"An idea always lives in individuals. It seeks an individual to transmit its great intellectual force. It becomes alive in a brain, and seeks escape through the mouth. The idea is preached by individuals, individuals who will never be satisfied to have the knowledge remain theirs alone. You know that from experience. When one knows something one does not keep it hidden like a buried treasure, rather one seeks to tell others. One looks for people who should know it. One feels that everyone else should know to, for one feels alone when no one else knows. For example, if I see a beautiful painting in an art gallery, I have the need to tell others. I meet a good friend and say to him: "I have found a wonderful picture. I have to show it to you." The same is true of ideas. If an idea lives in an individual, he has the urge to tell others. There is some mysterious force in us that drives us to tell others. The greater and simpler the idea is, the more it relates to daily life, the more one has the desire to tell everyone about it."

The full text of this speech is here. Follow the link below for the MP3s of Charlie and His Orchestra.

Adventures In Amplitude Modulation - Part 1

This is the first post in a series inspired by my personal radio listening habits. However, you can relax. I won’t be offering up a “connoisseur’s” list of my favorite radio stations or bragging about my personal taste in music. At least, not exactly. Often I listen to radio as an explorer of sorts. and occasionally I record some of these aural ventures. In this post (and others that may follow) I’ll offer a taste of where I go and what I hear on these radio hikes, such as they are.

Other than the Internet and my occasional purchases of the New York Times, my main source of information & entertainment comes from radio. However, what makes my media intake more esoteric than most is that I exclusively listen to AM radio and shortwave broadcasts. I don’t watch television and almost never listen to the FM band. Generally, the TV content I do take in, I now gather from the Internet. And to be honest, I occasionally do hear WFMU in the car, but at home I pick up WFMU on the computer. With 128K MP3 stereo streaming, it’s far better than the reception I muster with my radios here in north Brooklyn.

I suppose if I didn’t have all these albums, CD’s and cassettes laying around I might listen to FM more often, or even subscribe to (god forbid) satellite radio. For now, when I want music I listen to my own. When I turn on a radio I want something else. I want novelty, mystery, and most importantly something human. Every commercial music station on FM feels like it’s programmed by a committee of consultants. And even NPR sounds safe and tested these days. On AM and shortwave you're more likely to hear ad libs, idiosyncrasies, mistakes and raw conspiracy & rumor that isn’t always processed for pure potential profit. Oh sure, there ARE agendas and ulterior motives everywhere, probably just like where you work. Bottom line, most of U.S. FM radio is all about mindless listening and shameless profiteering, (Oh, and there's usually a few interesting non-profit stations at the end of the dial.) But AM and shortwave is about power, language, and cultural & ethnic identity. The “word,” whatever that’s worth these days still holds power on the traditional static-ridden bands that carry signals far distances. I like that.

From the WFMU News Vault: The Reincarnation of WFMU Poster

In the great tradition of WFMU-related art, here is a poster heralding "the Reincarnation of WFMU", created by an unknown artist sometime in the very-early 1970's.

As seen earlier on this blog, in the Summer of 1969, the WFMU staff walked out in protest in part due to pressure from Upsala College over their "far-out" (free-form) programming.  WFMU was off the air for about 10 months until Upsala hired a new Station Manager who would run the station with "a more professional effort"

At left (click to enlarge) is a copy of this poster which a listener donated to the station.  We estimate that it dates back to the time around when the station went back on the air in 1970.  It is a seriously groovy flyer for the night-time slots, and promises "good karma" and that "a splendid time is guaranteed for all".

From the WFMU News Vault: The Man Comes to WFMU

According to the Freeform Timeline,  "April 24, 1958 - WFMU's first ever broadcast. Nothing is known about it. For its first ten years, WFMU serves Upsala College students, broadcasting lectures, Lutheran services, classical music, jazz and international music."  On November 4 of 1967, WFMU's first-ever freeform show, Vin Scelsa's The Closet debuted in the midnight to 6am slot, and as seen earlier on this blog, by 1969, WFMU was getting more and more national media exposure for it's "far-out" free-form programming, and the station staff was getting more and more heat from the college administration for it, as well.    On August 31st, 1969, the staff walked out in disgust and Upsala College shuttered WFMU for 10 months. But what happened at the end of those 10 months?  According to these undated clippings (93k Jpeg) (supposedly from The New York Times), a new station manager was brought aboard by Upsala to "teach students the proper guidelines for radio"...

Back & To The Left

You all know what happened 42 years ago today in Dallas...

Blubber Chicken and Middle-Class Pie

Hello, everybody—nice seeing you again.

I was reading a social history of housework, because that's the kind of thing I do for fun, and in the chapter on cooking the author said that now that a whole generation has grown up eating Hamburger Helper, that's what Americans think home cooking is. They associate a good, home-cooked meal with Mom dumping the contents of a box into a pan and mushing it up with some ground beef. This made me feel very un-American, because I'd never eaten Hamburger Helper in my life. Then one night I happened to have a pound of ground beef in the Kelvinator, and it was a night Sluggo wasn't going to be home for dinner, so I decided to experiment. I walked to the store and, mirabile dictu, Hamburger Helper was on sale that week. There were a lot of flavors; I hadn't expected that. I didn't know which was the correct, all-American flavor to get, but there were empty spaces on the shelf so I figured probably the "regular" flavor was already sold out. I wanted to do my experiment, but I wasn't so committed to it that I was willing to get a raincheck and another pound of ground beef the following week, so I finally chose "Oriental" because its name seemed more politically incorrect, and therefore more all-American, than "Stroganoff."

Well, it was dreadful. The predominant flavor was salt, apparently as an attempt to disguise the bizarre chemical flavors of the other ingredients. I like salt—I sometimes snack on sea salt straight from the box—but Hamburger Helper was too salty for me. I am sorry for the Americans who eat this stuff, but on the other hand I'm not a foodie, either. Foodie food is peculiar in its own way. For instance, foodies are responsible for blubber chicken. For hundreds of years, American cookbooks have advised folks to roast a chicken by letting it sit in a 350-degree oven for an hour or two, depending on the weight of the bird. It was delicious, and it was fool-proof—but unfortunately it wasn’t foodie-proof. Pick up any new-fangled foodie cookbook, and you’ll discover that you should be putting your chicken in a 500-degree oven for a while, and then lowering the temperature for another while, and then you will wind up with a nasty, undercooked, blubbery bird which apparently you are supposed to pretend to enjoy because if you don’t you are an unsophisticated rube who only wants your food to taste good.

(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]

Virtual Drums N' (Kee) Bass

If you haven't been to the Audio Playground Synthesizer Museum lately, its founder Joseph Rivers has done some amazing work compiling virtual models of many vintage drum machines, everything from the Boss Dr. Rhythm R-55 to those crummy Mattel Synsonics drums of the 1970's. There's also a page with a ton of sampled Soundsheets (also known as Flexidiscs) from synthesizer and drum machine manufacturers (like Linn) and even more virtual keyboards, including the Rheem (probably better known for their water heaters) Kee bass keyboard, featuring switchable "Mellow/Fuzz" mode.

Audible Hiss

Came across this great site which made my heart and ears ache for my bygone days as a cassette enthusiast. It's an alphabetical photo montage of... keeee-rist... seemingly every make and model of blank cassette manufactured from then 'til now, and given that they're all the exact same shape and size, the sheer diversity of design is pretty head spinning. Gazing down the list, my eyes fell on a few that even reminded me of old tapes from my personal collection that either bit the dust eons ago, never made it out from under the seat of my '81 VW Rabbit, got left at parties, were simply tossed to make way for other obsessions, or perhaps still lurk in some dark corner of my apartment, waiting to be uncovered and reprimanded for wasting precious storage space.

For example, this little jobby here was a bit of an industry standard of the late 80s. But it's also the exact make and model of the corny mixtape I made the year before I finished high school and was subsequently carted around from punk rock shows in Trenton, to parties of older friends who'd trotted off to art school in the city, to secret skateboard spots in Pennsylvania, and then back again several thousand times over. I know this tape still resides in a bag of crap in my closet and is sun-bleached and warbled from years and years of abuse. The tracklisting is way too embarrassing to include here, but I will admit that it includes a plainly retarded segueway from the Jesus & Mary Chain into 7 Seconds. (Links to Real Audio.)

This one here had a Buzzcocks (Real Audio) mix that someone made for me. Or maybe it was just a dub from a vinyl copy of "Singles Going Steady", which probably gave the above mixtape some fierce competition for play in the boombox at some point or another. Sadly, side two of this tape featured a dub of Joni Mitchell's "Blue" album, (stop laughing) which is a great example of the classic mis-step of tape making, especially when precious boombox battery power is at risk: Don't put something you're only in the mood to hear once a year on the flipside of something you consider part of your daily personal hygiene. To this day, I can not listen to the Buzzcocks without fashioning my hair into a tidy bun and pretending to be a librarian 45 minutes later.

Purchased at Topp's Appliances in East Brunswick, NJ for the explicit purpose of making a mixtape for the pasty-faced punky maiden I was madly in love with during senior year of high school. This tape was twice as expensive as the garden variety Maxell/TDK models in regular circulation at the time, but I figured it was important to spend a little cash on the lady. She was obsessed with Depeche Mode, (Real Audio) whom I pretended to like for a little while in the hopes of earning her sympathy. Instead, after graciously accepting the mixtape from me just prior to Christmas break, she never again spoke to or made eye contact with me, having been obviously disturbed by something on the tape. (Note to current teenagers attempting to win hearts of pasty-faced punky maidens by making them mixtapes: Reconsider the inclusion of any lengthy Hubert Selby spoken word pieces as "dramatic" conclusion to side one. Though fashionable at one time, this is now widely regarded as a fiercely stupid idea.)

This Week in Sex: Sucktastic

Last week in sex:

• Recycle your holiday pumpkins into sex toys. Big, orange, un-sexy sex toys. (How will the diy sex toy people recycle christmas trees?)
  
• Check out what dildos went as for Halloween, and what the dildos did before that.
• Dirty laundry update: Last week we told you about vagina underwear (specifically, we told you not to wear it). This week it's frozen ground beef panties. Again, we ask you not to wear them, and we are backed up by the federal government (finally, some support here!) because the beef may have been contaminated with E. coli. Hats of Meat, however, are still tasteful and fashion-forward, wear well in the winter, and should be fine long as you don't get them near the dirty meat panties.

Last century in sex: U.S troops in London in WWII no match for "young sluts." But really, who is?

Color me horny. "Adult" paint by numbers, which is good because I don't understand the letters on that site. But that's OK, because the pictures are in the universal language of porn.

Nip/tuck. Do dogs know when they've been de-balled? I don't know if ball-replacement surgery helps, but having your owner wear a necklace with fake balls on it has to be a downer when you are trying to be a stud on the dog run.

Belly dancers. I'm not going to make fun of the 7th Annual Women's Belly and Womb Conference, where we will learn to love and know the power in our bellies and celebrate the magic of our womb today. As conference organizer ALisa (sic) Starkweather puts it, "Belly and Womb. Belly and Womb. You've got to know what's down in there. Belly and Womb. Belly and Womb. You've got to heal what you think you can't bear. Belly and Womb. Belly and Womb. Listen to your body. She speaks what's true. Belly and Womb. Belly and Womb. Honor the wisdom deep in you."  I'm listening to my belly and she wants to hurl. I'm going to honor that wisdom.

You're in trouble. They call it Urine Gone, but Urine Trouble would have been better. Order it "as seen on tv" and you get a black-light stain detector as seen on tv shows like CSI. And if you don't know why I mention this in a sex post, you aren't thinking about how gross/fun it would be to play detective in a motel room with that thing.

A blog of their own. Salon started a blog for the ladies, and lady-readers must be majorly pms-ing 'cause they HATE it. Maybe after a few days, a few pints of Ben and Jerry's, and a handful of Advil, they'll chill. One lady thinks it's "astoundingly sucktastic" to find some weird or funny or interesting tidbit in the news, add snarky comments, call it a blog, and think anyone besides your friends would care. Yeah. Right. OK. Are we meeting at the movies later? Call me! Bye! 

[You have to sit through an ad to get to Salon. Sucktastic!]

thanks to Corinna and SM Ken

Hey, Defiance Sells

Nice of Apple to equate an historic event that heavily influenced the African-American civil rights movement with being your own style guru and using their product. With the advent of this new photo featuring the late Rosa Parks (left) on the Apple website, the question of tribute, or yet using another respected figure as a prop for advertising comes into mind. I tend to say the latter, since they resurrected their "Think Different" ad slogan from a few years back for the picture. So who can blame this site for it's logical updating of what Apple coulda done with it (right). (Found via Breaking the Fourth Wall).

The Intimate Audio Gadget

Really portable music is a wonderful thing. It's both empowering and comforting to have a shiny music machine in your pocket that plays a variety of your favorite tunes at the whim of your finger on a little wheel. It's futuristic technology that has made listening an intimate experience... for over FIFTY years.

Back in the early 50's a company called Texas Instruments was making good money churning out piles of newfangled little transistors for military applications, but they envisioned a wider public marketplace for the little buggers. And in 1954 the TI engineers created a prototype transistor radio. It was small, it worked, and it seemed like a great idea. However, Texas Instruments wasn't in the business of manufacturing consumer products back then, so they shopped their concept around to several big radio makers of the day. Surprisingly, RCA, Sylvania, and Philco all said "no thanks" before a small outfit in Indiana (the Regency Division of Industrial Development Engineering Associates) took the bait.

Within a matter of months the first commercial transistor radio was a reality. Besides being cute and colorful, the TR-1 was the very first mass-marketed transistorized gadget. It was made here in the U.S.A., and in that spirit the it was prominently on display in stores across America just in time for Christmas 1954. The price? A whopping $49.95. Adjust the cost for inflation and you're lookin at almost $350 in today's dollars, not far from the $399 price tag on that first iPod.

Before the TR-1, any portable radio you might buy had a "luggage" quality, with big top handles and a bit of heft. They just weren't all that portable thanks to the warm glowing vacuum tubes they contained. These days, audiophiles and technical stick-in-the-muds properly laud the aural beauty of the "tube" sound, but the glass casings and inner workings of vacuum tubes are rather fragile and they need a protective case, as well as some large batteries to power up. And of course, the tubes themselves aren't all that tiny either.

From the WFMU News Vault: New York Times Magazine, 1999

This week features a sort-of lengthy article (html link) entitled "No Hits, All the Time",  written about WFMU for the New York Times Magazine's April 11, 1999 issue.   Fast forwarding 30 years from WFMU's groovy past, we get a picture of the station as it is, more or less, in these modern times.  Quotes from Citizen Kafka, Kenny G, Monica, and other DJs attempted to elucidate for the coffee-sipping Sunday morning Times readers exactly what it is that makes FMU so different from your average pitstop on the radio dial.   

 

"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.

What's On My Micro, Part 2

I'm back on the bus to NYC.  Off for a while, then on again.  Such is the life of a perpetually dissatisfied freelance worker.  The need arose, then, to refresh and revise the playlist on my Micro, resulting in the new inclusions below, though all but one of the artists are not terribly new (I must be at risk of High Luddite status; so few new artists impress me anymore.  With a few notable exceptions, new bands seem to often be just an amalgamation of older, better influences, unworthy of the sum of their parts.)

I also want to retract the statement made in my previous post about certain artists not qualifying as "music for being on the move."  Sooner or later, the complexity of moods triggered by commuting, and the city environment, will require a little Stockhausen or MB.

Apollo - Apollo (1970) - A gutsy Finnish rock act who were very much of their time, formed by members of the popular 60s group Topmost.  The album is evenly split between Beefheart-style screwy blues guitar numbers, and Aphrodite's Child-esque string-soaked prog ballads.  [mp3]  [mp3]

Association P.C. - Erna Morena (Live) (1973) - Pan-European improvisational rock band, with similarities to early Soft Machine.  Noodly psychedelic extrapolations, with some very rewarding emergent themes for the patient listener.  I wish more of their catalog were readily available.  A detailed information page about the band can be found here.  [mp3]

Bladder Flask - One Day I Was So Sad That the Corners of My Mouth Met & Everybody Thought I Was Whistling (1981) - Two sides of mind-warping sound collage created by the Rupenus brothers, aka The New Blockaders (see below).  The Rupenuses were also the masterminds behind the Mixed Band Philanthropist project and LP from 1986.  [mp3]

Haikara - Another great discovery in early 70s Finnish rock, Haikara were more progressive and complex than Apollo (above), with inventive song structures that sometimes incorporated Scandinavian folk themes.  Essential for fans of Arbete och Fritid and Panta Rei.  [mp3]
 

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."

Have You Heard About The Lonesome Losers?

This post concerns the most utterly mediocre music ever made, and the earth-shatteringly banal (and interchangeable) "bands" that made it - and yet I'm doing you a favor.  Because I know you can't tell them apart, and it's been bugging you, as it's been bugging me, to match the SMOOTH HIGH-HARMONIED 1974-80 AM RADIO HIT to the ANONYMOUS WHITE, LIKELY MUSTACHIOED GUYS WITH THE LONG-FORGOTTEN NAME who made it.

Can you honestly tell the difference between Ambrosia and Pablo Cruise?  Ace and Pilot?  Have the words "whutchoo gonna do when she says goodbye? whutchoo gonna do when she is gone?" been permanently etched onto your ear, yet without the courtesy of an author to claim resposibility?  I'm here for YOU.  This is a PUBLIC SERVICE.  Honestly, I'm sure this'll do you some good.  (And I actually really like 2 of these songs!  .... OK, one and a half.)

Clickable mp3 song snippets on the left, bands on the right -- some bands have multiple entries, just so you can be shocked by how many fucking hits they had.  (And one giant yellow clue.)

Baby Come Back  ||  Biggest Partof Me  ||  Dance With Me  ||  Diamond Girl  ||  Get Closer  ||  How Long  ||  How Much I Feel || I Just Wanna Stop ||  Just Remember I Love You  ||  Kiss You All Over  || Lady  ||  Lonesome Loser  ||  Let Me Love You Tonight  ||  Love Will Find A Way ||  Magic  ||  Reminiscing  ||  Sad Eyes  ||  Sharing the Night Together  ||  Sky High  ||  Still The One  ||  Whatcha Gonna Do  ||  When You're In Love With A Beautiful Woman  ||  You Are The Woman  ||  I'd Really Love To See You Tonight.  (ALL mp3 SAMPLES)

Ace  ||  Ambrosia  ||  Dr. Hook  ||  England Dan & John Ford Coley  ||  Exile  ||  Firefall  ||  Gino Vanelli  ||  Jigsaw  ||  Little River Band  ||  Orleans  ||  Pablo Cruise  ||  Pilot  ||  Player  ||  Pure Prairie League  ||  Robert John  ||  Seals & Crofts

Jump the flip, solve the crime.

From the WFMU News Vault: Look Magazine, 1969. Eye Magazine, 1969.

Some really great moldy oldies this week:

On June 24, 1969, Look Magazine published an article about "the new radio" - "stations with a far-out format" including KMPX and KSAN in San Francisco, KMET in Los Angeles, WNEW in New York, and there's a mention about a little station in East Orange called WFMU, which had just managed to raise all of $13,000 for their operating expenses that year.  Also, a creepily prescient scene featuring pot-smoking, mandala-wearing record executives who are none too concerned about "renaissance radio" encroaching on their profits.
Download the article here.  (PDF, 524k)

Later that year, Eye Magazine featured an in-depth 3 page article about WFMU and it's incongruous presence at Upsala College, which in description sounds a bit like the Faber College campus.  This article has some really fascinating facts:

• WFMU's first marathon ever raised $2,500, which was enough to keep the station on the air in the summer of 1968.
• Leonard Bernstein once called the station to tell them "he liked what was going on".
• Some things have really changed, like "A listener could call to request a song and hear it played 10 minutes later."
• And some things haven't changed at all such as the station "being under the care of various dropouts, mistfits and professionals" and the perception of WFMU as being "considerably looser, more spontaneous and less professional".

Interviews with Vin Scelsa, Lou "The Duck" D'Antonio, biker mama Toni Stevens, and the Kokaine Karma guys, among others, round out this very interesting piece of WFMU History.  Download the article here. (PDF, 1.18 MB)

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 4

As we continue to approach the outer fringes of the Nurse With Wound List, information on releases becomes either scarce, or steeped in speculation and hearsay.  Since I know that I am, to a degree, facing an audience of fellow experts and enthusiasts, any further illumination (or correction) on these artists and their releases is always welcome.  I have acquired several of these titles as CD-Rs or as downloads, so in a few cases I don't even have the original LP sleeve in front of me to scour for what little information may have been available there.

For background information on the list, many other artists and links, please see this index of my previous posts.

Horrific Child - L'étrange Monsieur Whinster - The Horrific Child album is, to me at least, the jewel embedded in the forehead of the golden idol that is the NWW List.  Part rock album, part experimental album, part imaginary horror soundtrack, L'étrange Monsieur Whinster is a psychedelic pop audio show, flowing naturally from one surprising sequence to the next.  Horrific Child was the creation of one Jean-Pierre Massiera, also the composer behind the Les Maledictus Sound project from 1968.  Les Maledictus Sound were an inventive, high-brow concoction of Easy Tempo-style instrumental mod big band music, with heavy brass, plucky bass and fuzzbeat guitar.  Horrific Child is certainly the logical stylistic next step from that record, evidence of the composer's having survived several years beyond the psychedelic era.  A section from side 2 of L'étrange Monsieur Whinster was released in 1999 as a bonus track on the CD reissue of the Les Maledictus Sound album.  Originally released on the Eurodisc label in 1976. [L'étrange Monsieur Whinster - side 1 excerpt mp3]

Roberto Colombo - Sfogatevi Bestie (Ultima Spiaggia 1976) - Milanese composer, arranger and producer who worked with some of the giants of Italian rock and pop, like PFM and Patty Pravo.  Colombo recorded two solo albums in the latter 70s of this intense, tightly arranged Zappa-flavored progressive jazz rock. Here is a short biography in Italiano.  [Caccia Alla Volpe mp3]

David Cunningham - Grey Scale (1976) - Irish-born composer and producer David Cunningham is perhaps most well known for being in The Flying Lizards, and for their string of new wave hit singles ("Money," etc).  Cunningham is also a popular music producer in the UK, working with artists like This Heat and producing Peter Greenaway film scores with Michael Nyman.  He's also worked on countless projects with his long-time collaborators David Toop and Steve Beresford.  Grey Scale was Cunningham's first solo LP (released on Piano in 1977, predating the Flying Lizards by a few years), and remains a coveted collector's item.  It's an album of homespun minimalist themes for small ensembles, and quite cleverly conceived (make sure to read the sleeve notes at the following link.) Detailed information on the album can be found here. [Error System BAGFGAB mp3] [Error System C pulse solo recording mp3]

Jean Shepherd Archives

Radio legend Jean Shepherd needs no introduction (but that link should work fine). Instead proceed directly to the Shep Archives for a 1550 track library containing nearly 1000 hours of Shep MP3 goodness. We're talking over 1000 recordings from the WOR days alone. I think you'll find it's an enjoyable as well as an unconquerable companion to WFMU's Aircheck.

Shit From an Old Glove Compartment

My Mom rarely throws anything away.  I wouldn't say that she's a hoarder of tragic proportions, not like some you may have read about, but her home is unquestionably a museum of old magazines, old clothes, useless furniture, dried-out magic markers and cat knick-knacks.  "No Surface Left Uncovered," I like to say.  Every once in a while, her hoarding leads to unexpected discoveries, like a plastic baggie full of paper items retrieved from the glove box of the Dodge I drove throughout the early 90s.  As I sorted through them, these papers recalled a tattered reality of past lives, past loves, old friends and past decadence.

I used to have an assortment of little cards like this one, which typically carried a handwritten signature on the back (otherwise it was fairly useless.)  That signature (theoretically) endowed the presenter with the ability to purchase certain "specialized groceries" at said location(s), which would not have been available to the walk-in patron.

"Song For Uncle Wiggly to Sing" - Lyrics that were never musically realized, penned for us by friend and genius painter/performer TJK Haywood aka Wooden Thomas.  His work also adorns the cover of the second Uncle Wiggly LP, Across The Room and Into Your Lap.  Here's a link to Wooden Thomas' web site, and a free mp3 from his milestone album, Age of Aquarium.

Envelope and postcard from Thailand.  Sent by Sari Rubinstein, now The Queen of Rubulad.  Inside the envelope were a personal letter to me, and this glorious postcard of the Wat Chayamangkalaram Buddhist temple in Penang.  The postcard lacked a street address, but was written and addressed in name to my friends Mark Ashwill and Julie Spodek.  I guess I was supposed to hand deliver it.  Note my proto-hip Bedford Ave. address.  Some goateed beatnik no doubt lives there now and pays 4X the rent my roommate and I paid in 1992.

The Lieutenant Wore A Purple Ribbon

It was around 10:30 on an unseasonably warm Sunday evening in October of ‘97 when a commotion began outside my Hoboken apartment that would eventually lead to one of my stranger nights in New Jersey.

I was on the couch, watching a movie, when the noise level outside got louder and angrier than usual. I went to the front window, pulled back the curtains and saw flashing lights coming down the block. Curious, I stepped outside just in time to see an upstairs neighbor corralling a young kid against a fence next door. The neighbor is a powerful guy and the kid – no older than fourteen – looked scared, like a trapped animal.

The cops were soon out of their cars, grabbing the kid and getting some details from my neighbor. When he was through, he came over to where I was standing with some other neighbors and explained that the kid – and some accomplices – were breaking into cars on the block. “I think you better go check your car. I saw them down there.” he said to me, pointing to where my car was parked.

Fearing the worst, I walked fast up the block to my car and got a sinking feeling when I noticed the convertible top unsnapped. I checked inside and (luckily) nothing was missing but a crappy old umbrella. The thieves were scared off before they had time to do any real damage.

I walked back to my building and thanked the neighbor for grabbing the kid. The cops asked me if anything was missing. I told them about the umbrella, said it was no big deal, and was surprised when they asked me to come downtown and swear out a complaint anyway (without complaints they had no case). I hemmed and hawed but then they offered me a ride (I was mostly concerned about losing my hard-won parking space).

For our Tuvan friends, a little thing called Perspective.

Yes, sure, there's something like 2,000 years' worth of history informing the art of the throat singers of the Mongolian, Siberian, and, since 1921, Tuvan regions of Central Asia - fine, you're right. Now get back in the basement and stop harshing our groovy.  You see, thanks to Albert Kuvezin and the band Yat-Kha, this deep cultural tradition has been solidly plopped into post-modernity, and FUN!

OK, a teensy bit of background: Tuvan throat-singers, such as the longstanding WFMU faves Huun-Huur-Tu and Sainkho Namtchylak, have long fascinated Western ears with their ability to sing multiple (and audible) harmonic overtones at once.  Oftentimes, their khoomei resemble the drone produced by that cornerstone of your more advanced hippie jam-circle, the didgeridoo.  And very often, their tones feature a distinct bird-like whistle.  You want to know more?  The web's full of it, go see - we've got some recontextualizing to do.

Here at WFMU, it takes a more refined novelty song to get us horny.  Song parodies and funny voices tickle us not.  But did you say "what would Perez Prado sound like playing Nirvana songs?"??  Talk to me, brother!  And really, who can resist this utterly choice nugget:

"I'd really love to hear a Tuvan throat singer do Joy Division" ("Love Will Tear Us Apart", realaudio from Stefan's "The Belly of The Beast")

And there we are.  Say, while we're at it, maybe throw in some Zeppelin?  Hey, make it topical - "When the Levee Breaks".(Realaudio from Ken's show)  Now We Are Talking!  And here comes the aforementioned Albert and his Yat-Khas, and they've got us covered with their new album "Re-Covers" - a collection of... yessssss, fave rock hits done in the Tuvan style!!

You know the Inuits?  Those eskimo people up north that Ken likes so much?  They've got a tradition of throat-singing too.  Though mostly they're about gamesmanship, and you're not going to hear them riffing a mean "The Man Machine" (Realaudio from my show) anytime soon.  But they're throat-singing, so they're in the continuum.  And thanks to Albert Kuvezin and Yat-Kha, we can see that road more clearly, and may readily note some formerly unlikely precedents to this Throat Singing jive:

Clarence "Frogman" Henry "I Ain't Got No Home" (Realaudio from Dave the Spazz)

Bent Bolt & The Nuts "The Mechanical Man" (Realaudio from Greasy Kid Stuff)

Billy "Froggy" Laughlin, of the Little Rascals / Our Gang comedies

Popeye (wav link)

Or maybe you respect tradition and history - fine, look below the fold and receive rich musical rewards. 

Music From Your Mothers

I'm on a real Mothers of Invention kick lately, and nothing could be better than the quintessential 1968 lineup (Don Preston, Roy Estrada, Ian Underwood, Jimmy Carl Back, et al.) performing King Kong.  What gene pool made these guys?  Largely classically trained, oversexed, jaded intellectual too-cool-to-be-hippie motherfuckers - they simply do not make bands like this anymore.  They inspired so many, and were narrowly rewarded for their efforts.  Of course, Frank Zappa's post-Mothers career and all-too-short life is well documented, but it's the Mothers era that never ceases to amaze me.

Note Frank's comment at the top of this clip thanking the BBC for "allowing them to do things..." - the US hasn't changed that much, if at all; we still have the worst artist-censoring record this side of Iran.
King Kong.rm

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 3

For background information on the NWW List and related links, see my previous posts.

The Sperm - Shh! (1970) - The 60s counterculture hit Finland with explosive results.  Even prior to the late 60s, Finland was considered an important center for contemporary electronic music and avant-garde art and performance.  If you then consider psychedelic and progressive rock on into the 70s, the Finnish scene was so rich that once you start listening you'll never run out of new discoveries; certainly, a wealth of curious releases remain unissued on CD. Several key titles have been made available on CD by Love Records.  For a detailed account of what went on, and the artists that propagated the mayhem, see the Finnscene site.  Also look for the indispensable compilation CD Arktinen Hysteria - Suomi-Avantgarden Esipuutarhureita (Love Recs), featuring several artists from the NWW List and other notable Finnish maniacs.

The Sperm were formed in 1967 by Pekka Airaksinen (who also features independently on the NWW List), J.O. Mallander and other giants of the Helsinki art/music scene, making them sort of an underground "supergroup."  They organized happenings, and made outrageous music using electric guitar, tape manipulation and other noises, spiritual grandaddys to the likes of Throbbing Gristle, Merzbow, Matthew Bower and The Dead C.  Yes, this album really is that good. [Heinäsirkat mp3]

Also quite worthwhile is the recently released Pekka Airaksinen/Sperm 2-disc collection including unreleased goodies, Madam I'm Adam (features 2 other tracks from the Shh! album.)

Patrick Vian - Bruits Et Temps Analogues - Excellent moog-based rock album released in 1976 on the legendary Egg label.  It's a wonder this hasn't been reissued, what with the intense interest in all things analog, to say nothing of the dozens of "sampleable" grooves herein.  Similar to early Heldon, or mid-period Tangerine Dream, but really its own thing and a very enjoyable recording.  Patrick Vian had previously led the group Red Noise (1970), also featured on the list.  [Grosse Nacht Musik mp3] [Tunnel 4 Red Noise mp3]

From the WFMU News Vault: WWOZ-in-exile and Thomas Edison's Attic

A couple of articles this week about the WWOZ-in-Exile stream:

This is a long article from the Nashua Telegraph.  It features interviews with both WFMU and WWOZ Station Managers and a rather somber photo of our own Station Manager Ken.

This is a article about preserving the cultural heritage of New Orleans. (registration required)  WWOZ-in-Exile gets a mention in a few paragraphs.

Speaking of the efforts to save WWOZ, thanks to the many WFMU listeners and WWOZ supporters who have pledged so far!

Also in the news this week: 

A fascinating article (registration required) about Thomas Edison's wax cyclinder recordings.   Jerry Fabris, host of WFMU's Thomas Edison's Attic and curator at the Edison National Historic Site, talks about these early recordings and efforts to preserve them in digital format for future generations to enjoy.

Click here to listen to the August 23, 2005 episode of Thomas Edison's Attic.  (RealAudio)   All playlists and archives for the show can be found here.

The Books of August

Hello, Everybody—nice seeing you again.

I thought August was a pretty good month for me. I’ve been feeling better and was able to get out and have a little summer fun--I went to a couple of parties, an art opening, and a wedding, and I saw Jean Nathan speak in Bryant Park about her brilliant book, “The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll.” But then I looked at the books I’ve read over the past month, and I started to wonder about what’s really been on my mind: Two of ‘em are about my childhood homeland, two of ‘em have the word “gothic” in the title, one of ‘em is about surviving in extreme circumstances, and one of ‘em made me think of a very dear, dead friend.

American Signs: Form and Meaning on Route 66, by Lisa Mahar (2002, The Monicelli Press). Is there anything better than reading a book by someone whose mind works just like yours? Lisa Mahar traveled Route 66 from Chicago to L.A. and analyzed the motel signs along the way--their history, evolution, construction, function, and the messages they convey--with charts, illustrations, and many photos. The fact that she even thought to do this thrills me, but the execution--the book itself--is even better. Here is the caption to one of my favorite illustrations: “Motels signs that included a saguaro [cactus] illustration were relatively common along Route 66, but none were located within the natural range of the species. This illustration, which locates the motels in relation to the plant’s native habitat, is based on an illustration in Douglas Towne’s ‘The Mysteries of the Wandering Cactus Unearthed.’” Okay, maybe she could have used a better copy editor, but the book is a real treasure. It’s 272 pages long, and I thought of Mr. Boyd as I read every page.

From the Trenches - Triac In the WFMU Live Room

They came from Baltimore to grace the WFMU airwaves; TRIAC, featuring one member of Hatebeak, were musical guests last night on Andrew Listfield's fill-in program for Pat Duncan. Listen here (about 22 minutes in) for the MP3 version of their set; here to check it out in RealAudio. Triac treated the listening audience to an onslaught of 10 songs of their trademark sludgy, furious grind. The new cd, Dead House Dreaming, that features cover artwork from artist extraordinaire Stephen Kasner, is just recently out on the Reptilian label. The Cosmic Cowboy got a good aerial shot of them while clutching onto a ceiling fan for dear life, fearful of dropping into the whirling madness of the room below. Before they left, we chatted off-mic about things near & dear; Route 17 and the Paramus Mall, a website where you can listen to the entire HAWK album and other classic 80s metal finds, cutlery and good posture. Check out the archive, buy their album, see them live, Triac commands you!

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 2

For the background and explanation of the Nurse With Wound list, see last week's post.  Also, last week I neglected to link to this great NWW List site, chock full of useful information.

Now on to this week's list of exceptional recordings.

Urban Sax - I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I avoided listening to Urban Sax for years.  You see, I have a thing about names, and the name Urban Sax conjured up visions of the stereotypical street alto player, clad in a loose-fitting geometric print blouse and a leather Stetson, bopping David Sanborn riffs to the aether somewhere near 72nd and Broadway.  How wrong was I?  Very wrong indeed.  Upon cautious investigation, I found that the "urban" in Urban Sax refers to the original project concept of creating sound environments in cityscapes via a large group of selectively positioned brass players.  Urban Sax is the creation of progressive music icon Gilbert Artman, founder of Lard Free and member of the experimental trio Catalogue with Jac Berrocal.  The band's discography up to and including the Spiral album in 1991 is varied and stellar, and perhaps most importantly, not what you might imagine.  Their sound is low on skronk, high on drone and performer interplay, such that the expected saxophone sounds are often submerged in harmoniously unrecognizable waves of tone, color and percussion.  For more information (and if you can at least somewhat read Francais) see their homepage; also see their brief but informative Wikipedia entry.  Though I believe that most of the Urban Sax catalog has appeared on CD at one time or another, nowadays the discs are reasonably hard to find.  Their self-titled 1977 album is a masterpiece, comprising four sidelong pieces of organic waft and shimmer. [Urban Sax Part 3 mp3]

Osamu Kitajima - Benzaiten - Debut rock/ethno/psych album released on Antilles in 1974, incorporating traditional Japanese instruments (koto, biwa, wood flute) into the standard rock mix. Largely instrumental and proto-new age, but definitely a rock record first and foremost, with heavy electric guitar passages.  Kitajima has an extensive discography, though my guess is that Benzaiten will appeal most to fans of the list.  Today he is "Dr. Kitajima," and runs new age label East Quest records. [Benzaiten (repris) mp3] 

From the WFMU News Vault: 1987 - Village Voice Declares Best New York Radio is Made in New Jersey

Back in age of the dinosaurs, I mean, in 1987, the Village Voice ran a lengthy front page article entitled "New York's Best Radio Station Broadcasts from a Jersey Basement."    They were talking about WFMU, which at the time was still located on the Upsala College campus in East Orange, in the basement of Froeberg Hall.  The article features, among other things,  Irwin expounding on the art of freeform, The Hound testifying on the state of radio and the world, and this amusing anecdote from the late Vanilla Bean,  about how he first came to be involved with WFMU:

"The turning point, what got me involved in WFMU, was when they were doing the marathon.  I called them up to tell them the pope had been shot.  This was back when Reagan first got elected.  So I called up and somebody who answered the phone sounded really harried and said 'Who gives a shit?' and hung up.  And I though, 'Wow, they sound like a great bunch of people.'"

Some nice illustrations by Kaz, as well. 

The article can be found in full here, in all its cut and pasted glory.  (PDF, 1.7MB)

Namelosers - New Orleans mp3

I just wanted to share this with everyone; my favorite rendition of this popular song, made in 1964 by some Swedes who I'm guessing were never in the great city.  They sure as hell aren't singing "Southern belle" either.  Nonetheless, it rocks.  Band info  [mp3]

Only the Realistic Survive

Hello, everybody--nice seeing you again.

Like everyone else, all I know is what I read on the Internet.  Of course, this week  I’ve been following the story of Hurricane Katrina, and I’ve listened to the mayor of New Orleans’ radio interview and I’ve watched the president of Jefferson Parish break down and cry, and I’ve read all those commentors asking, “How could this happen?” That seems a little disingenuous to me. People want to know why President Bush couldn’t attend to the biggest natural disaster in the country’s history, when  he was in Florida--the Bush Fascism Testing Ground, the state that “won” the election for him in 2000, where his brother’s the Governor--within 48 hours after one of the big hurricanes hit there last year. Well, why do you think? Within 48 hours of Hurricane Katrina the administration announced that all those Louisiana and Mississippi National Guard soldiers over in Iraq were NOT going to be allowed to come back early, and if that’s not a good, solid indication of their brand of leadership, I don’t know what  is. People say the Department of Homeland Security failed during this crisis, but actually they’ve continued to do their work--spying on American citizens’ public library records and preventing Canadian rescue teams from entering the country to help us. And the Navy has announced that Robotic Lord Cheney’s former company, Halliburton, will be restoring power and rebuilding three naval facilities that were wrecked by the hurricane in Mississippi. We can all take comfort in that, I guess.

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 1

In 1979, the members of Nurse With Wound, Steven Stapleton, John Fothergill and Heman Pathak, compiled a roll call of their favorite "outsider" musical artists to include with their first album, Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella.  No other details were provided, just 300 or so names in block type.  The second version of the list included several newly added names, and came with the To the Quiet Men From a Tiny Girl LP in 1980.  Stapleton and co. knew not what they hath wrought; the so-called Nurse With Wound List has since become a scavenger hunt of holy grails for fanatical collectors of Krautrock, progressive rock, psychedelic, post-punk, jazz, free improvised and experimental music.

Most of the artists on the list stem from the period 1969-1980, that gloriously creative, fertile era when most of my favorite records got made, boundaries were broken and excesses were indulged.  To date, many of these artists and their recordings remain unissued on CD, though a substantial number have been made available by stalwart reissue labels like Alga Marghen, Captain Trip, Fractal, Spalax, Paradigm and MIO.  In fact, the list is at least partly responsible (along with the Freeman brothers, Julian Cope and others) for the resurgence of interest in the Krautrock genre and the reissues that followed.

I have attempted to include here only selections that cannot be easily found elsewhere.  By and large, the labels that have endeavored to put these titles out are very small labels that deserve your patronage.  I have no desire to undercut their business, or the business of specialty stores and distributors around the world.  Most of what you'll see and hear here (and in future posts) are rips from my personal vinyl collection, or else they've been acquired as downloads via online file-sharing communities.

Orchid Spangiafora - Flee Past's Ape Elf - According to information found here, "Orchid Spangiafora is Rob Carey sometimes aided by Byron Coley & Chris Osgood (of the Suicide Commandos)."  This album came out in 1979, and has got to be the weirdest record ever released on Twin/Tone.  Brilliant, obsessive, hilarious spoken word-tape-cut-up-hell of the highest order.  For audio samples, or to purchase a "custom CD-R" from Twin/Tone, click here. [Sheer Madness mp3]

Sally Smmit and Her Musicians (1980) - Hangahar - This is The Mekons' Sally Timms like you've never heard her, long before she became the belle of skewed new wave-country music fans everywhere.  Released on the ridiculously short-lived Groovy label (Pete Shelley's label, which also released his now ultra-rare Sky Yen album), the album is two sidelong pieces of shambling post-Yoko Ono, post-Can jamitude. Undoubtedly an influence on Kraut-pranksters Damenbart. [A - Part One (edit) mp3]

Verto - Krig/Volubilis - Dark, hovering, French progressive psych released in 1976 on the Tapioca label.  Tapioca was associated with the obscure Pôle label, responsible for the original release of this and several other monumental French prog classics featured on the list, including the Besombes-Rizet double LP. Guitars, keyboards and ominous vocals. [Et Terre mp3] [TK 240 S 52 mp3]

Download Kingface MP3s

The endlessly storied 1980's hardcore scene based around Washington DC is a topic I spent a good deal of time obsessing over during my formative years as a fan of the weirdo music. Every rotten generation has musical saving graces of one sort or another, and being a dispossessed and underachieving teenager while Government Issue, Scream, Shudder to Think, Beefeater, Soul Side, and a then-new group called Fugazi (click any band name to stream songs in Real Audio from the WFMU archives) were doing their thing is something that I still feel pretty fortunate for, given that most of my peers seemed eerily satisfied with the flaccid metal and pantywaist pop of that same era.

In 1984, I'd only been to DC once (with my parents, on vacation) but a handful of years later, I could rattle off two dozen miniscule bands, the names of the clubs they played at, what bands the members had been in previously, and all sorts of other esoteric crap that probably contributed to my nearly flunking out of school several times prior to graduation. It's a pretty typical phenomenom, actually, and I can sense a few of you shaking your heads right now with the recognition.

Always being the sort that was drawn to the outsider amongst the outsiders, one DC band that has remained a source of immense joy for me so many years later is Kingface. Although they performed alongside all the fabled bands who propelled the Dischord record label to international prominence as a premier source of underground rock music, Kingface was neither A.) a hardcore band, or B.) part of Dischord's roster of bands.

From the WFMU Press Vault: Greasy Kid Stuff in the News

Hello blogosphere.  Welcome to the WFMU Press Vault, home of WFMU-related newspaper and magazine clippings, both new and recent and moldy and old.  This week we will cover a couple of articles about everyone's favorite Saturday morning sugar-bomb breakfast treat: Greasy Kid Stuff.

Hova and Belinda and DJ Waah Waah were very recently featured in a front page article in the Sunday Arts section of The Oregonian on August 25th 2005.  In it, we learn some GKS history, find out about their new remote set-up, and discover some secrets that make GKS the magic machine that children (and their parents) enjoy every Saturday.

Here's an excerpt:

"Kindergarten Rock
INARA VERZEMNIEKS

Among discerning rock 'n' roll parents -- parents who would much rather raise their offspring on ska, punk or quirky retro-pop than the Wiggles or Raffi -- the names Belinda Miller and Hova Najarian enjoy a certain cult status.

On a recent Saturday morning, Belinda and Hova, as they are known to their loyal listeners, were holed up in their Southeast Portland home, fueling up on coffee and Voodoo Donuts and shuffling through stacks of CDs and LPs in preparation for their two-hour radio show, "Greasy Kid Stuff."

Rather than play music specifically written for children, Belinda and Hova have turned 'Greasy Kid Stuff' into a national phenomenon by playing grown-up music they think kids would like instead."

The entire article can be found online here or, you can download the original article here (PDF, 453k).

The Oregonian's story also refers to a New York Times article from April 11, 2004 hanging on Hova and Belinda's wall. That entire article is available here (PDF, 433k)!

Next week:  A trip in time to 1987.

Pablo Picasso, He Was No Porno

Hello, Everybody--Nice seeing you again.

Nick Bertozzi is smart, funny, good-looking, and talented. Unfortunately, he’s also a cartoonist. He started out the way a lot of alternative cartoonists do, drawing his own crude, obscene, and funny comic book, “The Incredible Drinkin’ Buddies.” Then he got all artsy and drew “Boswash,” a story about a cartographer that, instead of being printed as a book, folded out like a map. He won some awards for that one. He drew a bumper sticker for WFMU in 2001. His art got better and better, and he started getting illustration gigs, and he got married and had a little girl, and his comics got more and more serious and historical, ’cause you don’t want to draw dirty stuff when you’re thinking about keeping your daughter off the pole. That’s why I was surprised when I heard that some poor guy in Georgia might be going to prison for giving away a comic book with a Nick Bertozzi story in it.

Every year, the comic book industry has a promotion where they give away free comic books. This is supposed to lure people into comics stores, as if there’s anything in there you’d actually want to buy once they get you inside. I used to love comics, but I don’t go into comic shops any more because I got tired of pimply-faced 17-year-olds calling me “Ma’am” as if it were an insult. Anyway, this guy, Gordon Lee, owns a comic book shop in Rome, Georgia, and he had a bunch of books for 2004 Free Comic Book Day that he couldn’t even give away, so he decided to hand them out to trick-or-treaters on Halloween. One of the books was an anthology called “Alternative Comics #2” that featured an excerpt from “The Salon,” Nick Bertozzi’s graphic novel about Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso. You know how kids love the early cubists. Nick did a lot of research on these guys, and the story is historically accurate, including the fact that the first time Braque went to Picasso’s studio, Pablo was painting in the nude. Naturally, that’s the part of the story that was excerpted in “Alternative Comcs #2.” Gordon Lee says the comic—which has a "Mature Readers" label—was accidentally put in the give-away pile, where it wound up being handed to a 9-year-old boy. The kid’s parents complained, and Gordon Lee was arrested.

"Displacing the Zionist Influences in this Nation"

James Kelso (pictured here with David Duke, standing in front of Hitler-sympathizer Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis), moderator of stormfront.org's online forum and Friend of Stormfront, working out of David Duke's offices in St. Tammany Parish, Lousiana has this to say on the subject of Cindy Sheehan:

One reason that the Left has, for fifty years, routinely done a better job of political progaganda than we Patriots have, is that they are ready at the drop of a hat to go out into the streets to protest.
We debate.
There is no downside to dignified street activism. The Crawford, Texas encampment by Cindy Sheehan is arguably the single most brilliant tactical propaganda move in decades. What Cindy Sheehan did was simply to "do it".
She just got in her car and drove to Crawford to physically announce her righteous moral stand against a war based on lies.
We can do the same thing. We can also take advantage of the entire media of the world being in Crawford for the next few days. Or we can let the opportunity go. We can worry about whether our message will be properly understood. Or we can do what Cindy Sheehan did....just show up in front of Bush when he is cornered like a rat lolling about at his ranch. Clearing brush, riding his $3,000 bicycle, and catching up on his reading.
A basic principle is that "if you don't come to the dance, you don't get the girl". We're going to the dance.

When I first heard about this, as I filled in for Prof. Dum-Dum tonight on WFMU, my immediate thought was "Karl Rove". Call me paranoid...

IN THE WORDS OF P-5

Hello, Everybody--Nice Seeing You Again.

The good news this week is that our friend Dave just got a new dayjob. You may have seen Dave at some of the WFMU record fairs, selling his nifty Savage Monsters posters and puppets, and if you haven’t seen him, you’re just gonna have to buy his merch online, ‘cause we probably won’t be seeing him again. The good news is his new job sounds really interesting and lets him use all his creative talents and pays really, really well. The bad news is that it’s in Cleveland and he’s gonna have to move there.

“Cleveland, city of light, city of magic,” I hear Randy Newman singing in my head, and if I weren’t writing this to you on a Civil War-era iMac running OS 1⁄3 I would hook you up with the mp3 file so you could hear it, too. It’s a song called “Burn On,” about the Cuyahoga River—the river that runs through Cleveland—bursting into flame back in 1969. But that river is always burning. Good old Time magazine once said, “The Cuyahoga oozes rather than flows.”

Cleveland, city of light and the Cleveland Indians. Nice logo, Cleveland! I have never thought of myself as being a politically correct person, but even I find the Cleveland Indians logo appalling, that Sambo-ized Red Man with the shit-eating grin. If you wear a Cleveland Indians cap in New York, you might get away with claiming it’s an ironic gesture, but it you wear one in Cleveland, you mean it.

Ohio was in the news last week when their Governor, Bob Taft, became a convicted criminal.  Convicted Criminal Taft is the great-grandson of Fat Stuck-in-the-Bathtub President Taft. (When I was trapped at the dogfood factory in Dayton last June, I saw an awful lot of Taft-sized people in Ohio. I don’t know what’s going on there, but the people are enormous.) Great-grandson Criminal Taft is the first Ohio Governor to be either charged with or convicted of a crime. After pleading “no contest” to charges of failing to report gifts and golf outings, he was convicted of four misdemeanor violations of state ethics laws, fined $4000, and ordered to write e-mail apology notes to state employees and newspapers to say he’s sorry for his behavior. This is probably the harshest part of the sentence, because Convicted Criminal Taft doesn’t use e-mail. Back in 2002, when he was pushing his Third Frontier project to turn Ohio into “a hub of new technology,” Not-Yet-Convicted-at-That-Time Governor Taft admitted to the Associated Press that he had never sent an e-mail and didn’t even have a computer on his desk. He said he preferred hand-written notes and telephone calls.

I don’t understand getting caught taking golf outings. Golf outings! Is that a euphemism for something else? If I were in a position of power, I would not be selling out my office for a golf outing. At least the Convicted Criminal Governor of Connecticut got some nice home repairs. I think he also got jail time, though, and Convicted Criminal Taft did not. In fact, Taft isn’t even going to leave office. Although in the past he’s forced out some of his minions for ethics offenses, he says those cases were different. Well, they were different—they didn’t involve him. He says he still has important work to do. Maybe he has to go door-to-door with O.J., looking for the missing $300,000 coins.

The State of Ohio, in its infinite wisdom, gave $50 million dollars from its investment fund to a well-connected Republican named Tom Noe so he could invest the money in rare coins and baseball cards. (Baseball cards! Too bad they weren’t looking to invest in comic books, ‘cause I’ve got some old issues of Catwoman   I’d be happy to sell to any savvy Republican investor.) Alas, it turns out that $300,000 worth of gold coins have been lost in the mail. Don’t you hate when that happens? And then about $12 million is just missing, and nobody knows where it is.  Tom Noe—whose strip-mall coin shop went under in 1992, leaving him $16,500 in debt—was contacted at his million-dollar Florida home, but he said he doesn’t know where the money is, either. I wouldn't put my savings (which currently total $204) into rare coins, so how could the state of Ohio think it was a good place to put their $50 million? Why didn't they just buy 50 million dollars’ worth of lottery tickets? Or they could have bought 50 millions dollars’ worth of Amway products and gone state-to-state, selling them to Missouri and Nebraska.

But don’t worry, Ohio—President Bush is there for you. He’s reported to have reacted calmly to Criminal Governor Taft’s conviction, just as he reacted calmly to the results of his personal friend Rafael Palmiero’s drug test. “Governor Taft apologized today, he has paid the fine and said it was a serious mistake, and the President accepts that,'' White House spokeswoman Dana Perino said. So there. And remember which state put Bush over the top in the 2004 election—because he certainly hasn’t forgotten. As our friends Pizzicato Five say: “OHIO!”

Thanks for reading my blog entry, and may God bless.

The Voice of the People Speaks: Where Have You Gone, Billy Joel?

Yesterday's "Voice of the People" section in the New York Daily News featured this timely letter from Cynthia Ryan of Brooklyn, NY:

"Just wondering if there was a way to persuade Billy Joel to write a sequel to 'We Didn't Start the Fire.'  A lot has happened since it was recorded."

Although I couldn't get through reading this letter aloud to the rest of the staff at the lunch table yesterday without breaking up into that embarassing hysterical laughter where you think you are going to start crying or worse: the truth of the statement is undeniable.

A lot has happened since 1989, when "WDSTF (part one)" reached the #1 spots simultaneously on the Billboard album and singles charts late that year.   Desert Storm, grunge rock, Bill Clinton, the Internet, the Spice Girls, Britney Spears, Rwandan genocide, Red Bull, Enron, W, terrorism, electroclash, WMD, Mountain Dew Code Red and countless other head-spinning events, persons and soft drinks.  How are we to make sense of it all?   Where can we find the perspective we desperately need in this uncertain age, as time marches on and history keeps being made every day?

The Voice of the People knows.  And The Voice of the People has spoken.   We all know who it is who can sort this out for us. 

Billy Joel, you are our only hope.

(Thanks to Liz for hooking me up with Schlock Rock's version of the original "We Didn't Start the Fire" she dug out the the JM In the AM Archives.)

You're fuckin' pretty loud, New Jersey!

Because it's an utter act of criminal negligence that this is not readily available via a quick google search, we hereby present to you the mentally-defying sounds of the between-song banter that tumbled from the mouth of Venom vocalist Cronos when his band played at City Gardens, (Trenton, NJ).

Venom - Spoken Excerpts Recorded live at City Gardens (Download MP3) (Not safe for work)

Backstory: In 1986, Black Metal legends Venom played what some thought of as an unlikely bill with Rollins-era Black Flag at famed punk dump City Gardens, in scenic Trenton, New Jersey. The club was a magnet for all types of unsavory social elements -- skinheads, criminals, bikers, leather-studded punks, people who liked Meat Beat Manifeto, and so forth. Anyway, the punkers, metalheads, and general thugs who turned out for the show not only got to witness two of the more badass bands of the era sharing a stage, but were also treated to some of the most (unintentionally?) hilarious between-song stage banter ever, courtesy of Venom's knuckle-dragging vocalist Cronos.

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.)

July Indoors

Hello, Everybody--nice seeing you again.

I had to spend most of July indoors, so I've been doing a lot of reading. Here are some of the books I've read in the past month.

Carnivorous Nights: On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger, By Margaret Mittelbach and Michael Crewdson, artwork by Alexis Rockman. (2005, Villard Books). Margaret and Michael are a writing team, and I don't even understand how that works. I think of writing as something solitary and painful, like pulling out your own teeth with a pair of pliers, but somehow they sit down together and write the most interesting and fun books and articles about natural history stuff. While they were doing some research at the American Museum of Natural History a while back, they came across a taxidermied specimen of the extinct Tasmanian tiger and fell in love with it. (I'm not sure how that works, either, but to each his own.) They ended up traveling to Tasmania with their pothead artist friend, Alexis, and his girlfriend, and a friend of a friend, and all sorts of things happened including that they learned the verb “to quoll.” Their book about their adventures in Tasmania is extremely amusing and good-humored, just like Michael and Margaret. To celebrate the publication of Carnivorous Nights, they had a party and taxidermy competition at Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. DJ Dorian  was one of the judges, and my armadillo handbag, Randall, won a prize. It was one of the most fun parties I've ever been to, and they said they're going to do it again when the paperback comes out.

(P.S.--The picture of me making a face with Randall Handbag is not the best picture of me ever posted online. This one is better. I can't wait to hear this edition of Chris T's “Communication Breakdown, 'cause I think Jeff is a nice guy and would look really good in a fireman's outfit.)

Moravagine, by Blaise Cendrars.(Copyright 1926, translation 1968, published in paperback 2004 by New York Review Books.) I came across this in Posman Books when I was looking for the new translation of Don Quixote. The cashier guy who usually rolls his eyes when I come up to the register with something like Happy Kitty Bunny Pony got all excited when I plunked this book down on the counter. He wanted me to come back and let him know how I liked it. I dunno. Maybe I would have liked it better in 1926, when it was written, but it kept reminding me of the scene in the first Austin Powers movie where Dr. Evil says he want “One MILLION dollars!” Ooh, Blaise Cendrars is so pervy and evil! Plus, I just couldn't get into the whole deal with Blaise Cendrars being a pen name or an alterego or whatever, and the whole artifice of his background: “What is true? What is false?” You know what? I don't much care. But maybe I just need it explained a little better. I wish DJ Rix  would read this book and tell me what he thinks of it.

The Secret Architecture of Our Nation's Captial: The Masons and the Building of Washington, D.C., by David Ovason. (2000, HarperCollins Publishers.) I do believe David Ovason had something to say when he wrote this book. What was it, I wonder? I finished this book--all 465 grueling pages, including the notes--in July, but I've actually been reading it every night for over a year. I could never manage more than about a page before I became unconscious. It is the most soporific volume I've ever read, and I recommend it only as an infallible aid to sleep. I plan to donate my copy to the WFMU station library.

Happy Kitty Bunny Pony: A Saccharine Mouthful of Super Cute, by Charles S. Anderson Design Co. with text by Michael J. Nelson (2005, Harry N. Abrams, Inc.) Did you believe me when I said I bought a book with this title? I got it to cheer myself up, and because looking at it doesn't require any thought process whatsoever. There are pictures of kitties and bunnies and ponies, and some duckies, too, though I recommend caution when purchasing books that are authored by a Co. Michael J. Nelson turns out to be one of the guys on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Sometimes he's funny, and sometimes--especially after the first 100 pages of cute pictures of kitties, bunnies, ponies, et cetera--he sounds like he's trying a little too hard. I don't exactly regret buying it, but it is the only book I've ever tried to get Sluggo to store on his bookshelves.

Meditation as Medicine, by Dharma Singh Khalsa, M.D., and Cameron Stauth. (2001, Fireside.) One good thing about getting cancer is that it can make you more receptive to trying new things. In the first part of this book, Dr. Khalsa is very careful to explain kundalini yoga and meditation practice in terms of Western Scientists-and-Experts' research into the endocrine system, glands, the vagus nerve, neurological PET scans, spatial-temporal reasoning, and so on. Obviously, this is aimed at people who are really skeptical about mudras and chakras and whatnot. All I know is that I get up every day at 5 AM and take a cold shower anyway, so I figured I might as well try the rest of Dr. Khalsa's program. I had a very dramatic reaction the first time I tried the medical meditation for the immune system, and I felt really good all day. I'm still not sure what a chakra is, but I'm actually not sure what my thymus gland is, either--that doesn't mean either of them is nonexistent. Right now a new copy of the hardcover version of this book costs less than the paperback on Amazon.

Pet Architecture Handbook, by Tokyo Institute of Technology Tsukamoto Architectural Laboratory and Atelier Bow-wow. (World Photo Press, not sure what year.) This book is not by a Co., it is by an Institute. Or a Laboratory. Or an Atelier. Sorry I don't have a picture of it. It's  a collection of photos and brief descriptions of 73 wee, tiny, eccentric buildings--most of them commercial spaces--in Tokyo, plus project proposals for 8 more itty-bitty buildings. Sluggo gave me this book to read and, while it is cute and interesting, it puts me to sleep almost as fast as the book about the Masons and Washington, D.C.

Here is a book I read a long time ago, and talked about on my old book club show on WFMU: The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll. The author, Jean Nathan, is going to be at the Bryant Park reading room this Wednesday, August 10, at 12:30. I wish I could take my copy of the book for her to sign, but I'm still spending all my time indoors. I thought you might want to check it out, though. It's a really good book, and I think the paperback's just come out.

So that's the full report on my month of reading. Thanks for reading my blog entry, and may God bless.
-Bronwyn C.

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.

Abandoned Amusements

Abandoned amusement and theme parks left for nature to reclaim.

This site contains a stunning series of photos of an abandoned Japanese amusement park. The first few pictures of a rotted roller coaster are especially creepy as they were taken in the morning fog. page 1 - page 2 - page 3

Suzy Poling, an Oakland photographer, has a great photo series of an abandoned theme parks called Hidden Village. She also features a spread of old delapidated theatres: Palace of Mold

Defunctparks.com features many snapshots of parks in their heyday alongside the current state of rot: Rocky Glenn Park in Lackawanna County, PA - Mountain Park in Holyoke, MA - Idora Park in Youngstown, OH - Chippewa Lake Park in Chippewa Lake, OH .

IllicitOhio.com made a trek to the PTL's Heritage USA.

Pacific Ocean Park decimated through time.

Here is a promotional film for Santa's Village (mov. file) from Extinct Attractions, a site that preserves Disneyland's and Disney World's past through interactive DVD documentaries. They also archive information, pictures and sounds of theme park rides, attractions and brochures. Browse around a bit, they have a few more video clips.

Take a listen to Goosy Goosy Gander (mp3) and The Happy Dragon's Tongue (mp3) - they are part of a collection of field recordings from theme park rides and attractions recorded and compiled by Melinda Simon and Mark Fay and released as "Songs for Little Ones" on Dish Recordings in 1997.

A Week Imagined

If you're old enough to recall seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan (as I do), or If you remember when it was widely accepted that marijuana would soon become a nationally decriminalized (and ultimately legalized) substance, YOU know– the world HAS changed.

But no matter what age you are, you can turn the clock back a few paradigms and get a taste of that more daring and open era by watching a few episodes of the Mike Douglas Show-- Specifically by taking a look at a week of programs from 1972 when Douglas invited John Lennon and Yoko Ono to co-host his afternoon TV show.

Mike Douglas, former big band vocalist and all around affable guy, was no hipster. And his weekday program (syndicated nationally from 1965 to 1984) was produced by future right-wing media guru and now the head of Fox News, Roger Ailes. However, the world was a much different place 33 and a third years ago, and letting a former member of the fab four and his avant-garde wife take over your popular TV show must have seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. And the fact that Rhino has released the entire week as a box set of videos pretty much proves that the entertainment value of the unlikely match up of Mr. Douglas and the arty celebrity couple has actually appreciated over the years.

Through the week of shows, Lennon and Ono chain smoked their way through conversations with Ralph Nader, Black Panther Bobby Seale, George Carlin, Yippie Jerry Rubin and many others. Although he never pursued it seriously, Lennon had a natural talent for broadcasting (listen to him on the radio in 1974 here), and he has a blast playing talk host and bringing some pretty radical politics and ideas to a nationwide audience.

Patriot Action

Hello, Everybody—Nice seeing you again.

Some time ago—a few weeks, a couple months, I’m not sure–I noticed a big beige box in Grand Central Terminal near one of the information windows next to the big ramp that leads up to Vanderbilt Hall. The box was made out of sheet metal and had what looked like a stovepipe coming out of the top of it with a funnel-shaped cap on the top. I walked over to look at it, and it was humming away, making a noise like an air conditioner or a dehumidifier. “Checking for gas,” I thought. It just seemed obvious that it was some kind of Homeland Security machine to warn us when the Bad Thing happens.

A couple weeks later I saw some guys in MTA vests, accompanied by a cop, out in the middle of the main concourse at Grand Central. They had a funny little device set up on a table—it reminded me of those 4-armed things in physics class that spin around in sunlight, except this one was bigger and had some kind of paper tape printout spooling out of the bottom of it. So I walked over to check it out. “Excuse me,” I said, “But what is this thing?” The vest guys looked at me and looked at the cop. The cop nodded. “It’s to test the air flow in the terminal,” one of the vest guys said. Yeah, that’s what I thought it was.

A few days after that, all the National Guard soldiers and the MTA police in the terminal suddenly were walking around with bulky canvas pouches hanging from their belts. This was new equipment that they’d never carried before. Gas masks, I figured, so I asked. Yeah, that’s what they were. I have to wonder if all these studies and precautions are being taken because some security consultant just happened to think of it, or is it being done because there’s a real threat? I go through Grand Central every day—if it’s a real threat, then where’s MY gas mask? It seems like I can either go with the survivalists or with the even scarier folks who find gasmasks especially ... um ... interesting.

I’m a little skeptical about all these new “security” measures anyway. Like right after the first London bombings a couple weeks ago, the Port Authority cut off cell phone access in all the tunnels. They said it was to keep terrorists from setting off cell-phone-triggered bombs, but then everybody complained that it also kept regular folks from calling for help in case of an emergency, and a couple of big-deal security consultants were quoted as saying it was a bad idea, so then they turned the cell phone access back on. It made the whole thing seem like a panicky reaction to something happening 4,000 miles away rather than a well-thought-out security policy.

They followed that up with the new random-search policy. New York police are now stopping subway and bus passengers and searching their bags—without probable cause—supposedly at random. The Daily News sent out 5 reporters to check out the policy: Pete Donohue, Jego Armstrong, Jonathan Lemire, Veronika Belenkaya, and Tamer El-Ghobashy. Guess which one was the only one stopped and searched? In fact, he was stopped and searched twice. So random. At least it’s better than London’s Metropolitan Police policy of randomly selecting subway passengers to shoot five times in the head. And it turns out that the NYPD’s random searches are costing millions of dollars in overtime, so I’m betting they’ll be discontinued as soon as they can find a couple of big-deal security consultants to say it’s a bad idea. In the meantime, I've decided that I will decline to be searched. If the police stop me, I'll tell them I understand they're just doing their job, but that I believe the U.S. Constitution is supposed to protect me from unreasonable searches. I know they won't let me on the train, but, jeez, people have died to defend our freedoms, the least I can do is be late for work.

Grand Central has been patrolled nonstop by armed National Guard soldiers for a while now. The first time I ever saw them, I was getting off a train with an older guy, an attorney who lives upstate. “Look at the soldiers,” he said. “Aww,” I replied, “they don’t scare me.” He looked at me oddly. “They’re not supposed to scare you, Bronwyn,” he said. “They’re supposed to make you feel safe.” Well, it’s been a few years now, and I can tell you that it’s not working. Seeing soldiers with weapons and gas masks everywhere I go does not make me feel safer than I felt in the old days when National Guard patrols at the train station would have been unthinkable.

The basic assumption of democracy is that people are good. What do you get when the basic assumption is that any random person may be really, really bad?

Thanks for reading my blog entry, and watch your step.
-Bronwyn C.

Know Your Psychoactives

Erowid is an organization dedicated to providing accurate, truthful information about "...psychoactive medications, entheogens, herbs, and recreational drugs". Thousands of contributors world-wide share their experiences in the Erowid Experience Vault, where Nemo has this to say about his first experience with Methamphetamine:

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."

Vintage Old Codger Archives Now Online!

Old Codger radio programs from the 1990s are being archived online. The Codge (a.k.a. Courtney T. Edison), the station's longtime irascible mascot, does not know these relics are preserved on the web -- and would not approve. He scorns all archival media except 78 rpm discs, which he professes to play "like they're goin' outta style." Despite beggary and threats, the Codger (he claims he's old enough to have been pals with Mark Twain) has never been given a regular program. However, since the early 1990s he has on various occasions filled in for The Hound, Irwin, and Laura Cantrell's Radio Thrift Shop. He lives in an East Orange bunker, surrounded by his precious 78 stacks. He's a cranky mutt, who taunts listeners by sneering, "I've got shoes older than you," while sputtering contempt for WFMU management and DJs.

The Codger -- who still hosts the occasional fill -- refuses to spin compact discs, vinyl LPs, cassettes, or any format except 78 platters, which he lugs to the station in a rickety shopping cart. He abuses studio equipment, and disregards station protocol with impunity. Once asked by a female staffer what he wanted for Christmas, he replied, "My house needs a dishwasher and a doormat. Which would you prefer to be?" The libidinous Codger is notorious for on-air come-ons to female admirers, smirking that he loves "younger women -- age 45 or 50," though he draws the line at "40-year-old jailbait." Though never married, Edison has been linked romantically to hefty torcher Sophie Tucker, vaudevillian Effie Cherry, actress Ida Lupino, R&B siren Nellie Lutcher, and TV sitcom vixen Betty Rubble.

About 35 Codger programs exist. Many new ones have just been posted for online listening. By the end of the summer, we expect to have all programs online.

If you want to call the Codger at home, he always touts his private line on the air. Since 1890 he's had the same phone number -- "6."

Commemorating 65 Years of Racism

Mexico has put their collective foot in it again with the release of these commemorative Memin Pinguin stamps, hot on the heels of President Vicente Fox's racist remarks in May. The cartoon character has been around since the 1940's and apparently takes jobs even Mexicans don't want...

See the BBC News article here.

Crazy Eddie Rides Again

Anyone who grew up near a television set in the NYC area probably remembers the commercials for the discount electronics and record chain "Crazy Eddie". Thanks to WFMU Listener Pete from Boston (and NJ) for discovering the acerbic TV spots that were an immense point of pride for us tri-staters now have a tribute page online.

Mermaid Parade

It's hard to believe but the Mermaid Parade is upon us once more. Begun in 1983 by the Officially Unelected Mayor of Coney Island, Dick Zygun, the Mermaid Parade is successor to the Coney Island Mardi Gras, which ran from 1903 to 1954. A naughty-but-nice family-friendly bacchanal celebrating the return of summer and the DIY aesthetic, the parade lures thousands of participants of all ages and sizes, who don elaborate costumes and compete for trophies, including:

• Best Little Mermaid
• Best Mermaid
• Best Neptune
• Best Drill Team
• Best Marching Team
• Best Antique Car
• Best Float

I've been MC of the Mermaid Parade since 1989 (the same year Aerial View began) and I'm still amazed I get through it every year (the last few parades I've been immeasurably helped by my co-MC, Kay Sera, "down on the street"). It's like a three hour LSD trip without the acid (if anyone's thinking of doing acid and coming to the parade, DON'T: remember, "set and setting"). Behind my podium on the reviewing stand, I'm at the center of the action, dodging tossed beads, showers of candy, beer cans, the occasional bottle of whiskey - you name it. These are bribes, something heartily encouraged by the corrupt "jurors" who award the aforementioned trophies. How does one become a juror? Is there an election? Does one work one's way up the ladder, from municipal court, to circuit judge, to parades in general, etc? NO! One coughs up a healthy donation to Coney Island USA, the arts organization behind the parade.

The corner of Surf Avenue and 10th Street, in the shadow of the Astroland's Cyclone Rollercoaster is where the action (and PA) is, so show up early (Noon-ish) and snag a spot for the best view. For more background, here's an excellent write-up on the 2004 Mermaid Parade.

The 911 Operators

Almost everyone agrees, September 11, 2001 was a really lousy day in America. Thousands died horrible and violent public deaths– in airplanes, in burning and collapsing buildings, and by jumping out skyscraper windows. All of us around New York City who watched two of the tallest buildings in the world burn and fall will never forget seeing something macabre and previously unimaginable take place that morning.

It was easy to take it personal around here-- Photocopy posters everywhere bearing the photos of the missing, people spontaneously sobbing on the street on in the subway, and the sick smoldering stench that lingered around here for months. It wasn’t until weeks later that I realized that people all over the country were probably just as affected by the replaying of slickly edited movie-trailer style videos of the day's disasters on television. (You can download and watch a couple mpg versions here and here)

While the smoking hole downtown is gone and most of the mess was cleaned up years ago, the memory remains ugly, distinct, and powerful. And what’s worse, despite Bush’s promise to “smoke” out the “evildoers” responsible for all the American death that day, nobody has been caught or tried for those ghastly crimes. Sure, we were immedietly told the attacks were the work of a vast network known as “Al-Qaeda” led by a guy named Osama Bin Laden. but the billions spent there hasn’t been any fresh leads on capturing these alleged terrorist masterminds since our forces inexplicably let Bin Laden escape from Tora Bora over three years ago.

Abu Ghraib - Is It Torture? Or Is It ART? You Decide!

Conceptual surrealistic photography through the ages: (above, figure 1.a) U.S. soldiers make a point by photographing themselves with naked Iraqi prisoners' bodies stacked in the form of a human pyramid, Iraq, 2004. Contrast this with (above, figure 1.b) famed photographer Philippe Halsman making a point of complimenting Salvador Dali with naked women's bodies stacked in the form of a skull, in his portrait "Dali's Skull," New York, 1952.
(click to enlarge images)

Draaiorgel!

These beautifully ornate Dutch street organs, or "Draaiogels" populate Holland streets.  Some beefy thick-neck turns a crank and the mechanical organ churns out a tune.

I once conversed with a Holland native on Soulseek about these organs:

"I hate them.  They're operated by drunkards, usually with their retarded brother, always smoking a cigar.  Then they get very belligerent when you don't give them money.  I hate them"

I would rather have these beauties on the street  than your average busker bleating out bland renditions of Billy Joel songs!

Dutch Street Organ - De Vijf Beelden (mp3)
Dutch Street Organ - De Arabier (mp3)
Dutch Street Organ - De Vijf Beelden (mp3)

Draaiorgel website - complete with info on collections, events and CDs.

To boldly go where no Vic-20 has gone before

Five photos of William Shatner in a Commodore Vic-20 commercial.

"Why buy just a video game from Atari or Intellivision? Invest in the wonder computer of the 1980s for under $300, the Commodore Vic-20. Unlike games, it has a real computer keyboard. With a Commodore Vic-20, the whole family can learn computing at home. Plays great games, too. Under $300! The wonder computer of the 1980s, the Commodore Vic-20!"

Not good enough? Then browse through the rest of the current issue of Retrogaming Times Monthly online magazine, or browse through the past 100 issues for all your TI-99, TRS-80 Color Computer, Commodore 64, Timex Sinclair 1000, Colecovision, Odyssey 2, etc. needs. Y'know, game reviews and stuff!

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)

I Can Hear for Miles and Miles

Ohhhh, you so sneaky.  I hear your little buzzy buzz bird motor.

[via Tuning]

East Coast edition of “Hey other cities, top this…”

Every July in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, a ke-razy Italian hoe-down fills the streets surrounding Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church… The Dance of the Giglio (aka Feast of the Giglio) features a parade of 100+ men hoisting a 4-ton platform which supports a full-piece brass band and a sublimely gaudy 65-foot spire of paper mache crowned by the likeness of San Paolino of Nola.

Apparently, the original festival celebrated San Paolino, who sacrificed his own freedom to save a child when the Huns invaded Italy 1600 years ago. Giglio means lily (as in the flower), which is what the townspeople gave Paolino when he returned from his years of servitude. And somewhere down the line, lilies were replaced by a gigantic phallus topped with a glorified garden gnome. Right on!

More photos of this madness may be found here.

London Downloadable

In the spirit of sharing local quirks, I’ve got all the Forest City MP3s you can handle. With a population of about 360 000, my home London Ontario can be summarized as “2 hours from Toronto or Detroit”. Musically it’s best known for it’s long gone punk scene, which taunts today’s rock deprived Londoners at The London Ontario Punk Rock Scarchives. While not punk, the most well known acts to emerge from the toxic Thames include Guy Lombardo (streaming realaudio, slowed for your enjoyment) and the WFMU favorite, The Nihilist Spasm Band (streaming realaudio).

You sure as hell don’t want to come here today, so if you really want a taste of London get your plug-ins ready and head on over to CHRW’s London Music Archive which features tons (or tonnes) of complete albums in glorious MP3 from all the big and small acts ranging from 1967 to today.

Must have albums on the site are:

The Nihilist Spasm Band - Vol. 2

The Nihilist Spasm Band - Every Monday Night

The Nihilist Spasm Band = 7x~x=x

The Nihilist Spasm Band - Live in Japan

63 Monroe - Stinkin' Up The Joint (Maybe the greatest London album ever)

The Demics - Talk's Cheap

The Demics - The Demics

The Ledgend Killers - Better Than Hammerin'

The Legend Killers - The Legend Killers

The Napalm Babys - Who Cares About The Devil

Go ahead and check it all out and don’t skip the dozen or so What Wave compilations.
Next Time: Guelph Ontario. Brace yourself, Guelph isn't just another word for barf.

With A Rebel Yell

While visiting family in South Carolina this past week, I did my usual obsessive radio knob twisting and came upon the only listenable commercial station in Charleston, something called "96 Wave" which plays alt-chart classics for alter kocker new-wavers.  They give a few minutes weekdays to a guy called The Southern Avenger  who mixes Wrestlemania with outlaw politics, American history and a real knowledge of government and policy. While I have a hard time trying to understand why some Southerners seemingly are still holding grudges against us Yankees since 1865 (fyi South: we Northerners are hardly losing sleep about it at this point!) I hafta respect their right to embrace their particular culture which melds wicked charm with gun-totin' lawlessness. The Southern Avenger, with his Confederate flag wrasslin' mask and Unknown Comic leisure suit has some great rants here, which as a Liberal Commie New Yawker I can't say I'm 100% comfortable with across the board but would still recommend to provide insight into the unique voice of America's South.

H is for HOLY SHIT

Mr. T raps about his Mama.

Courtesy of Ifilm.

Head Had AIDS

I've been waiting for some excuse to inflict this little beauty on people, and WFMU's recently hatched blog seems like just the venue...

No matter what cultural depths the New York Post sinks to, nothing -- I repeat, nothing -- trumps this miracle of garbage journalism, as published by my local paper back in the late 80s. If you travel anywhere south of New Brunswick, the Trentonian is widely known for having no equal in the realm of rampantly misspelled gossip, the trashing of local government officials, and in-depth features on scantily-clad page six girls. Yet here in the NYC metro area, the visceral joy that can be gleaned from it on a daily basis goes largely unappreciated.

The Head Had AIDS fiasco, as I recall, was the final cover story on an unsolved murder case that began weeks prior with the discovery of a badly-decomposed human head on a central Jersey golf course. The dismembered dome was in such a state that investigators at first couldn't even determine the sex of the victim. Several days later, lab tests revealed the victim was not only female, but also had been HIV positive, and the Trentonian splashed the miraculous cover story across the unsuspecting hordes of Mercer County dwellers in unabashedly straightforward language.

Amazingly, this headline is now actually used as a reference in the curriculum of several collegiate journalism programs, as a shining example of what you're not supposed to do. (Note that the cover also suggests that the Mets had won, which is obvious bullshit.) I've heard that original copies of this edition of the paper show up on eBay from time to time carrying an impressive pricetag. Who ever woulda thunk...

Thanks to Jon for finally tracking down an image of this on the internet, and to Scott for reminding me that I had it stashed in the nether regions of my hard drive.

Charlie and His Orchestra

The lure of the forbidden can be seen nowhere more clearly than the Parent's Television Council's filthy TV page. Here is the organization that has been responsible for generating millions of complaints to the FCC, and they make it possible to watch those delectably decadent moments over and over again.

In the 1930's the Nazis had the same love/hate relationship with swing music. They outlawed it on their homefront, throwing it into  the category of "degenerate" art. But at the same time, they employed it in the service of the fatherland. Joseph Goebbels, Hitler's propaganda minister, assembled a fairly competent swing band called Charlie and His Orchestra to perform Nazified versions of the jazz hits of the day. Led by an English speaking German, Karl Schwendler, Charlie and His Orchestra broadcast on the medium-wave and short-wave bands throughout the 1930s to Canada, the US and Britain.

The idea was to lure the masses in with the irrestible tonic of swing music and then slyly work in the anti-Jewish, American and British lyrics after the second or third verse. The broadcasts of Charlie and His Orchestra were not available in the Fatherland proper, but that only enhanced their legend, and they picked up an underground following in Germany as well.