Saturday, May 31, 2008

Photographs by David Henry


Andy, Jon and Chuck in Sorry at the Rat, 1984.


Here's another great photo from David Henry's collection. I hung out with David for a bit back in the day. He was a very sweet kid, but he's all growed up now and living in Paris. All the way over in France. He has continued to pursue photography and his website is full of breathtaking photos. You'll find easy to understand explanations of how he digitally edits the shots he captures on film. He also has some interesting thoughts posted on new vs. old image technologies and he steered me towards a film scanner that has worked out really well for me. I'll bet he'd answer questions for you too if you have any. If you are ever in Paris, look him up and book a lesson or two. He'll take you out to a location and teach you how to take pictures there and then help you edit them later. Sounds like fun. He also has a MySpace page where he's posted a few shots of Boston bands. Great stuff!

David feeding sparrows in front of Notre-Dame

Friday, May 30, 2008

Too shy today...




One night when Willie Loco was playing at Green Street Grill, he asked me if I would help him out with Bass Rocks and sing back-up. I told him I was feeling really shy that night and didn't want to. "SHY!!! Ch-Yeah!" he guffawed. Yes, he actually guffawed. Then he gave me that look.

I liked that place. It's close to the parking garage and kind of cozy. It doesn't hurt that I also run into Peter Wolf there a lot. I'll never get tired of hearing him ask me "What's your name again Darlin'?" Ha. Now that I think of it, how come Willie didn't ask him to sing back-up?


Here's a shot of WA's piano, his signature Wamaha. Comes with a portable stand.

Joe Harvard has great Willie photos, stories and opinions up on his site. Do check it out. Like Joe, I miss Matt a lot too and love seeing the way he was in this video. Such a sweetheart. And he had a fantastic ass.


BASS ROCKS Willie Alexander and the Confessions

Monday, May 26, 2008

I'd be happy to be Jackie...

Here's a little holiday treat for you. I wish whoever posted this would fix it so that the whole video would play. It cuts out about halfway through, but what is there is priceless. Is it just me or does Musty's rack get bigger every year?


MUSTY CHIFFON

Sunday, May 25, 2008

I know you're all going to be hoisting a few this weekend...


Please drink responsibly, as demonstrated by Chet and myself above. Absolutely NO drinking and driving will be tolerated! And no, that's not camera redeye. What's it to you?

Friday, May 23, 2008

"You'll Pay For This!"


And it will only be a paltry twenty dollars, including shipping. The lovely Miss Lynn of Boston Groupie news did the definitive review of this must have documentary, saving me a good bit of work here. Thank you BGN. And thank you John Nikolai for allowing me to post the gorgeous photo you took of Tommy playing with the Axe at the benefit for Darfur at North Quincy High School.

YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS! trailer


Tommy tells me that if you cannot find a copy at Newbury Comics, Axe DVD's can be ordered directly from him for $20 which includes shipping. Send your dollars to:

Tom White
45 Bertson Ave.
West Roxbury, MA 02132
Thanks!

It's been a long fucking time since I first clapped eyes on Tommy White, dressed in a mismatched plaid jacket and pants, wearing a canvas hat and hanging by the crook of one elbow from an overhead pipe at the Honey Lounge AND playing guitar at the same time. I knew right off that I liked this guy. After the set he was swinging from pipe to pipe like a monkey and I walked right up to him and it was instant friends for life. I didn't realize what I was walking into and I now apologize to all the guitarists that I thought kinda sucked 'cause they couldn't play like White Trash. Yes, I love Tommy. Who doesn't?

Monday, May 19, 2008

In My Spanish Hacienda...


Has anyone seen old PiP lately? He took this photo the night The Fabulous Billygoons opened for The Specials at The Bradford Hotel. This shot appeared on the inner sleeve of Rhapsody in Flatulence. I'm not sure if this photo was snapped before or after the bomb scare. We had to fucking evacuate while we were trying to get dressed for the show, or in the case of the Goonettes, UNdressed! I'm still convinced it was just a hoax so some kids could sneak in free. Someone told me later that The Specials were unhappy having to follow us after they saw the pie-fight free-for-all that ended our show. That's about the biggest compliment I've ever gotten. Some time later, Phil actually offered me a copy of one of his photos of me. I requested The Bubble Lady, another shot from that night that showed me blowing bubbles backstage. I never got a copy, but years later Willie Loco ran into Phil in another city and snapped a photo of him wearing a t-shirt with The Bubble Lady printed on the front. So, thanks to WA, I finally got my Bubble Lady.

Here's a song adapted from Los Perros de Amor written by Kip Korea, produced by Brother Cleve and performed by The Fabulous Billygoons.



Sunday, May 18, 2008

"Fucking Kilslug...Maaaannnnn!"


Oh if only I had a dollar for every time Kennie or I uttered the above quote to one another, before giggling insanely together over yet another of their whackadoo exploits. I realize I should give an example here, but fear that would end with this blog being used by the prosecution in some bizarre case where the statute of limitations hasn't run out yet. Kilslug shows were really fun. My only problem was that their sound was too much like the noises my brain was already making all the time on it's own, so sometimes it all melded together and I just spaced out and it all became background. Luckily, they were always as much fun to watch as they were to hear. Like big crazy Garbage Pail Kids with lots of testosterone and impulse control issues.

I heard tell that there is a Kilslug documentary in the works and I will let you know what's up with that when I hear more. I knew this little kid whose mom lived with a member of Kilslug for awhile and she used to leave him at the loft with the band while she went to work. He sings backing vocals on Elizabeth. I keep telling his mom, instead of busting his hump selling real estate he should be writing a book called Growing Up Kilslug. Sounds like a best seller to me.

Yes, yes, before anyone wastes a comment, I know this vid is Upsidedown Cross. But I didn't like any of the Kilslug clips I found and this video still has a lot of the Kilslug flavor. And it's pink! Pretty.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Preakness Day




Well, here it is. Already time for the second party, ah I mean jewel, of the Triple Crown. Way back when, the Derby, Preakness and Belmont parties were the framework around which our entire summer party season was built. The students were gone from the city and it was all ours. One of the best invites was to the house of Lord Ra. He kept an immaculate home that was comfortable and funky. His works of art were always on display and everchanging. He was a great cook too. And maintained a clean bathroom! There was no fear in taking a shower at Ra's. What were the odds of that? It was a very safe place to crash and he'd put you up anytime. Some people stayed for years. God, I hated it when he moved away.

Anyway, back to the race. I have to ask myself, "Is Big Brown a great horse or is he just the turd that will last the longest in the punchbowl?" Either way he wins but the general consensus before the Derby was that he might be a serious contender only because the rest of the field this year sucked ass. People must have realized that opinion was rather insulting to the rest of the horses, so they've started backing off it a bit. You can still tell that's what everyone is thinking though. There's a lot of speculation that he just might win the crown. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Sure, every year you hope it will happen, but it kind of blows to have it feel like it's happened by default.

Getting to the point, my Trifecta bets will be Big Brown [queen makes Mr Burns noise of disgust and shudders here] Kentucky Bear and Giant Moon. Ya gotta love a horse called Giant Moon. Then I'm thinking Big Brown with Icabad Crane and Stevil. A cruise up to Rockingham today seems like just the ticket and if the turd rocket comes through for me maybe I can buy a new crown. I just wish Lord Ra was here. And if anyone sees AlbertO, please tell him that I'm over here now, on the other side of Broad Street.


This pic was shot in the house of Lord Ra. But this isn't him. I still haven't found my good stash of pictures. Sorry.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Stranglehold video unearthed!



Coincidentally, this ticket arrived for me in the mail today. I'm waiting for Dr Who to pick me up in the TARDIS and I'm so there. What to wear?

Rescue Me


Tewksbury Chief William Chandler and fireman Ken Mallison proudly stand by the new Engine 1 delivered May 1. It replaces Engine five destroyed in the Feb 9 gas explosion. The apparatus features a 1250 gallons per minute pumper, a 50 gallon water tank, 1000 gpm for the deluge gun and a high expansion foam system. Because of cooperation from American LaFrance, the engine was delivered quickly. Normally delivery takes about 1½ years.

Today, firefighters and a funeral were the order of the day for me. I guess I can connect that to this blog seeing as The Great Broad Street Riot was caused by the clash between firefighters and a funeral procession.

My uncle was a member of the Fire Department in my town. I am such a firefighter fangirl it borders on sickening. I can't help myself, so at the mercy meal after the services, I had to sit at the table with the Honor Guard from the fire department. Talk turned to the biggest fire ever in Tewksbury, a propane tanker that exploded on the grounds of the Lowell Gas storage facility on February 9, 1972. The blast was less than a eight of a mile from my house. I had just stepped out the door on my way to the car so we could evacuate when the tanker exploded. It shot a mushroom cloud of fire about two hundred feet into the air. The two firefighters with me at the table pointed out and named each man in the hall who had been there that night. Their voices lowered in abject awe, their eyes glowing with admiration. Half the fire department was injured that night, one was killed. They told me how everyone in the department dreams about having a lifetime fire like that one. Maybe that's where my love comes from, they're as batshit crazy as I am. Comrades! After that explosion, my uncle became acting Captain. Newspaper articles and a magazine story about the disaster are available here.

I guess no one can accuse the execs of the company of hyperbole for this press release the next morning: At 5:15a.m. the Lowell Gas Company issued a statement that a minor fire at the plant was under control.

I had to ask them about Rescue Me, and was happy to find that they love the show, though they were quick to add that it's nothing like the job. Denis Leary was on The Daily Show tonight and the fifth season won't be on until next March! Damn!

Engine One today.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Broadluxe



When I heard about this auction my immediate reaction was, "I gotta get me some o' these!" I'm sending one of my minions to an auction for a South End property this week to see how the whole process plays out and who knows? Maybe next month we can score a nice loft on Broad Street. Anybody want to kick in towards a timeshare? A nice place to crash when you're in town. Maybe we can get two and add a small video suite and a cozy little recording studio? C'mon, it'll be fun...

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Crashing at The House of Pain










I like getting up before the crack of dawn these days. It still reminds me of all night parties of yore. There's the same feeling in the air. Last night fades away and it's too soon to start planning for the next night. Neutral territory.

At this time I'd like to extend a big thank you to all those kind souls who allowed me at one time or another to crash at their place. First up was Kennie, who dragged me home from Sporter's to her first place in Boston, a chic little apartment halfway up the wrong side of Beacon Hill. Kennie really knew how to make with the Southern Hospitality.

Martine and Ty are also owed a million thanks. It's so sad that they tore down that building on Milk Street. The house of Kilslug. It should have been declared a landmark for Satan's sake.

The drunkbed in the House of Pain was perhaps my most frequent resting place. Thank you Tommy White for your generosity over all those years. Being wife number two to you has always been an honor. And easy, all of the pageantry and none of the drudge work.

One of the stranger nights spent on the drunkbed had to be the time I woke up to Tupper trying to spoon me. We had had a particularly disfiguring night, but there really isn't enough gin in the world. Besides, Tupper had been resting his eyes in the adjoining suite with his British girlfriend Rachel. How did he end up with me?

Of necessity, the drunkbed was close to the only bathroom and during the night Tupper had come over to use the facilities. Tommy had decorated that bathroom with Incredible Hulk contact paper. Ah, the finer things. Anyway, Tupper just homed in on the drunkbed after he left the bathroom and it didn't really matter to him that it was muy occupado.

Believe me, you don't ever want to wake up to a drunken Tupper in snakeskin underwear pressed up against you. I arose in a flash and a fog and just then Trash happened by, wrapped in a blanket like fucking Crazy Horse, saw Tupper snoring away and me sitting there in black underwear on the edge of the bed with my spinning head in my hands looking abjectly horrified. He just stopped and laughed. For a long time.

One thing about staying at Sgt. Trash's house. There were always morning calisthenics. No matter how recently your head had hit the pillow, when the clarion call of the opening to the theme from Batman sounded, you bounded out of bed to get as close to the tv as possible so you could do this stupid running dance we made up to go with the music. It was really fun when you had about four or five people. We gotta do that again sometime. Thanks Tommy.

Friday, May 9, 2008

STRANGLEHOLD







"This photo was taken at Mavericks by Bruce Rhodes, this is when we were at our best, this is when we meant it and practiced every night. It seemed like we played Mavericks every weekend like we were the house band our fans, most who seemed underage probably becuz they were, would dance and scream along with us and you'd see the same faces every week hardcore kids who were sick of the rigid rules of their scene and wanted to throw back a beer and cute punk rock girls......oh the cute punk rock girls.....nothing better than cute punk rock girls.....nothing, by the way that's Dickie on stage doing the mad skank, it was a great time we'd hang at Queensbury St all day
go to the gig blast off and head back partying till dawn we were far from straight edge and had no desire to be, we were going to be the next Clash, SLF.......oh fuck that we wanted to be the next Stones or Who......it was a great scene and a great time." So says Jimmy Keough and I totally agree, except for one thing. Yeah, punk rock girls were pretty cute, but not as cute as the punk rock boys!


Recent news that Boston's favorite boy band was reuniting got my attention until I realized that they were talking about some dumbass new kids, not boys. Stranglehold was always MY favorite boy band from Boston. Two seventeen year-olds, a nineteen year-old and the old man of the group clocked in at twenty. Not one among them old enough to legally buy a beer. How could they nail everything so right? Through
the years I often remembered how I'd loved Stranglehold beyond reason,but I had forgotten why. Until I stumbled across them on MySpace and heard them again. I can't believe what I've been missing. Won't fucking let that happen again.


What's a queen to do when she wakes up with one of JR's Stranglehold
basslines thumping incessantly through her head? After thanking the
gods that Stranglehold found each other and formed the band, she jumps out of bed and runs downstairs to check and see if Amazon has
delivered on its' second day shipping promise and dropped a big ol'
package of Stranglehold off at the royal front door. They haven't.
Dammit. Tomorrow is the weekend, no deliveries. Hey Amazon, you're
supposed to drop the package, not the ball. Now what? There's no way I
have time to dig through the vaults and find the vinyl. Even if I did,
I wouldn't play it, I saw on the internet that copies are going for
seventy-five dollars! Not that I'd ever sell it, but still. Nevermind.
Calm down and fire up the computer and go to MySpace, hit
Stranglehold's page and relax. The basslines will be real soon enough.
Same All Over starts to blast and I am a happy queen. Transported back
in time. Ah yes, that's muuuuch better. There's only six tracks there,
but it will do for now. Who comes here and practically ignores the
original Same All Over? Philistines! Oh well, at least they have the
good taste to seek out Stranglehold in the first place. Just don't try
to download any of the songs on a Saturday morning or you'll totally
crash.


Stranglehold's page lists Stiff Little Fingers, The Undertones and The
Clash among their influences and I certainly won't argue with any one
of them. I might take the liberty of adding Unnatural Axe to the list.
I felt Axe in them too. They even looked a little like Unnatural Axe.
Red-headed Irish boy frontman rhythm guitarist songwriter? Check. Mad
long-legged genius crazy man on the bass? Check. A mysterious dark
haired songwriter who played the most sincere goddamned guitar you
ever heard and was cheerful to the point of goofiness? They had that
too. The only difference really was that Stranglehold would go through
only two drummers while Unnatural Axe has an official drummer count of six at this time. I state this as fact because I got it in a message from Tommy White himself, and that is good enough for me. Oh the drummers Stranglehold could have gone through given the time. Sigh. The Axe had been as young when they started too, lo back in the
previous decade. Cripes, I can remember going to Axe shows in the late 70's where I could almost still smell the formula on their breath. I digress. So we have Jimmy Keough, Jonathan Roberts, Richie McKenzie and John Murdock as founding members of Stranglehold. In the final analysis, there were two Strangleholds. There'd eventually be another drummer, Mark D'Antona, and another lead guitarist, Chris Doherty.
Chris was a band rat who was a friend and a fan. He was growing tired of playing hardcore at all ages shows, the poor jaded old thing, so he gnawed his way onto the stage to play some guitar with Stranglehold. The roadies set out his beer in a sippy cup. It was a different Stranglehold. Before Chris, they were mono. Compelling because of the raw vitality of the sound. The pureness of it practically heart
stopping. There was so much power and restrained wildness in the music the initial combo produced and they put it out with a resolute single mindedness and workmanlike precision that was awesome to behold. It sounded alive and uncut. A force of nature. Chris plays and makes them stereo. His guitar was so lush it took up a lot of space. His sound plugged up holes in your brain that you didn't know were there. Heady stuff. It's impossible to choose which Stranglehold I love the most, so I just crave both. Sometimes I sneak into iTunes and arrange the songs in a more chronological order. It's my OCD kicking in.


They must have rehearsed about five hundred hours a week because Stranglehold could not only stop on a dime, they could screech to a halt in one of the grooves between the ridges on the side of the fucking dime, do a one-eighty, flip the dime off for good measure and leave it looking like it had been run over and flattened by a freight train. It was mind blowing how everyone would be going off in
different directions and then suddenly, with a crashing collision, it
was all together again. GO! Holding back the ska just tightly enough
to make it seem dangerous. Sometimes, the guitars sounded so metallic
you could swear you were hearing horns, or they'd all snarl together
in a riot of scribbling texture and bounce. The leads could sizzle, skitter, and pop over everything like cold water hitting a smoking hot surface. It was there and gone in almost the same second. JR's badass bass thumped into your heart and he truly seemed possessed by the music, just on the edge of out of control. The maniacal drumming made you want to twist yourself into oblivion. And Jimmy's voice.
Seven-fucking-teen and he sounded like he'd lived a long VanGoghian existence already. When he sang it was like some living feral thing had been caught in his throat and was struggling to escape, yet fearful of what it might find if it did get out. How could one so young sound so raggedly tortured already? How? I don't know, but it
was a thing of majestic beauty to hear. Utterly transporting. Their beats were insanely danceable. Oh yeah, roll your eyes back in your head and bounce for the set. They were just so much fun! It made it impossible to have a bad time. Even if your low-down stinking boyfriend was cheating on you behind your back while he used you, it
didn't matter. That stuff happened all the time. Stranglehold didn't happen all the time, so when you saw them, you enjoyed the hell out of it.




Their Crash & Burn CD is a must have. Like most great masterpieces of a certain age, there is some damage to this artifact. While there may be technical problems on some of the tracks, the overall whole is so captivating, majestic and true you hardly notice it. Much like the Venus de Milo, a limb or two may be missing or damaged, but you don't
just slag off Venus, do you? It's a disc full of songs you could laid to or go to war with. These are the kind of songs that I got in on the ground floor of rock and roll for. Singing just as easily of a longing for an older woman (what? 21?) and the sheer adorableness of getting a modest kiss to the exquisite pain of first heartbreaks. What I'd give if my heart could break like that again. Songs about girls, tired and
beaten up hearts, crashing parties, universal high school truths, bumming rides and sussing out hidden motives. I give so much credit for seeing through a lot of relationship crap while being barely, if even, out of high school. Nothing political to bring you down. No songs that made you stop and think 'Christ, I really should be out
there protesting!' instead of in here having fun. Beer the only substance abused. And pure, ecstatic energy beaming off the stage at you and bouncing all around. Motivated by the music and the bands fantastic repertoire of stage jumps and lunges you could not stand still and would end up dancing for the whole set. Add in all the drunken scream along choruses and you were in for a severely good time. Stranglehold was one of finest and funnest bands ever. The Keeper of the MySpace page has posted some songs from their CD and I'd like to chime in with my thoughts on those. Songs posted are subject to change, so check in there once in awhile to see what's up.

The intro drums of Cause I'm Gonna sound like a thunder cloud roiling
in the distance with an army of guitars to back it up. Suddenly it's
there, right overhead and in your face, pouring down over you. Fierce
and defiant. It is a more stirring and primeval call to arms than
Blitzkreig Bop. There I said it. The Ramones WISH they had written
this one. And I say this loving the Ramones more than life itself. I
don't really care if you think that's geeky.


There's two versions of Same All Over. The original version has myriad charms. The lead guitar meshes perfectly with all the other parts to form a pleasingly seamless whole that sounds sort of like airplane noise. Oh hell, all of the guitars on this one are perfect. Jimmy makes noises that sound like a ship being torn asunder. With a rock
steady beat. You can't not dance to it.


I always love it when bands do covers because it provides a great shortcut to understanding what they're all about. Hearing the way a band treats a well-loved song can tell you fairly quickly whether you're gonna like them or not. An added bonus with this track is that you get to hear the band play live on 'ERS and experience the shattering tightness of Stranglehold in the wild. The Undertones love is on full display in a gripping, ripping version of Gotta Getta. Faithful Undertones fans...what's not to love?


Any Way I Can is about those times when you've been horribly wronged, you're pissed off about it and you think a simple change of scenery will make it all better. Sorta like a car, cranky and questioning, the guitars will drive you far away from it all.


I have recently been informed that She's Not Leaving is a simple break-up song. Ha! Only a male could describe a break-up as simple. Then I must examine more closely why it makes my Spidey Sense tingle. What makes this song sound slightly sinister to me? Probably one of those broke-up-in-an-unfortunate-location things. Like it happened at the corner Dunkin' Donuts and now everyone has to be reminded of it
every time they pass by and can't stop there for coffee anymore. That would suck. I love this song. It has some fearsome bass lines. If you happen to scream along to this one, watch out. Stranglehold is tricky and will try to fool you in the end.


The second version of Same All Over sounds brilliantly live, right down to stuff getting smashed, people talking and a radio playing in the background. It's an explosion of noises that manages to sound spontaneous. There are so many layers there, yet the whole thing makes sense and makes the song a joy to listen to. Ending at just shy of
five minutes, it's almost as long as you want it to be. I do like how the vocals on the newer version are much clearer and sung with a more intriguing phrasing. Here, if I had to pick I'd go with the longer version just because it's longer and, yes, a tad showier. As Mikey Mermaid always used to say, deep down, I'm really shallow.


The fact that over half of the songs are produced by the band is astounding. The rest are culled from live radio performances and their 7" Leisure Tour '84 record. So they write the songs, play the songs and for good measure, produce them as well. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that they drilled for the oil to make the vinyl and logged the trees for paper for the record sleeve. I'd give my engraved Cantone's ashtray to hear what they would have done with more time and more songs in the studio. What I'm trying to tell you is that this is good shit. Ramones good. Clash good. Axe good. Do I even have to say Stiff Little Fingers? Haven't you been paying attention? It's a freaking crime that there is no video of Stranglehold. Most of their live tapes have gone missing. My wish would be that you end up loving this band like I love them. Go ahead, it will be good for you. Jimmy wrote about a conversation he had with Richie recently during a rehearsal for a new band they're putting together. There really is no place like home.

"....I said dude we were together two years I was nineteen for Christ sakes......he said buddy we managed to squeeze in two what most bands take ten to do....and then we both agreed we were never better than when we were at Mavericks as a four piece, with John on drums, we really meant it we were trying hard and it was a great scene."