The Great Broad Street Riot

2009 Kentucky Derby

2009-05-03T13:01:00.003-04:00

The guy calling this race really sucks at it in a major way.

Is there any Sunday of the year sweeter than the first Sunday in May when the top errand on your list is to return to the track and cash in your winning Derby tickets? No, not really.

I actually made it the whole way to the morning of Derby Day without hearing any substantial clues about what the word on the street was about the field and now that the day was here I needed to settle on my bets, my cunning plan was to go for trifectas. You pick three horses to win, place and show. There are other things you can do with your bets and I was planning on boxing mine, which means that if your three horses finish in the top three in any order, you win. The only horse info that had managed to filter through was that the favorite had just been scratched. He was number thirteen, which is one of my favorite numbers, but I usually go against the favorite, though with boxed trifecta bets, favorites can turn out all right in the final analysis.

Moment of Truth time, Saturday morning I sat down with a Sharpie and a piece of cardboard and started messing with my numbers. Ones, threes and fives had figured prominently in my car repair bill so I felt strongly I had to use those. So well had I avoided the horse news that it did not even register that this was the 135th running until after I had placed my bets and was looking at the derby t-shirts. I wonder if I would have discounted those numbers if I had realized that before I bet? Kind of like how the first pancake or crepe of the batch always comes out fucked up. That's what makes it all so maddening, sure the signs are all there, it's reading them correctly that's the trick. As my dear, dear friend Garry Cook used to say...It's always too late, and THEN you realize...Truer today than ever. In hindsight, I would say the fact that 135 had so caught my eye was a sign that I should bet this year for sure, not necessarily a sign that those would be the winning numbers.

Honestly, I can't even remember my roundabout logic in picking my other numbers, four were Kennie Mae related, one came from the numbers on a run of records. I ended up with eight 4$ boxed trifecta combinations. You do the math. A crane flew over my path on the way to the track and for some reason the number 8 popped in to my head.

The road that leads to Rockingham Park winds down and to the left when you get off the highway. I pulled all the way over to the left lane and as I drew nearer to the turn into the track I hugged the rail closer and closer, thinking that this is how a horse must feel hugging the rail and riding it into the turn down the homestretch and then I was around the corner and into the parking lot, but not before the number 28 jumped out at me from a sign above the highway. I pulled into a space and some hasty perfecta bets were cobbled together using ones, twos and eights.

At the window, I read off the first eight bets and the teller took my note for the four perfecta bets to enter them. At the last second I asked for 5$ to win on number eight. Unusual for me to place a win bet. Bets to win are like a toy bet, not even really worth it to bother, you never make much off it, it's the exotics that give you the really nice pay-outs. Hedging my bets, as it were. It didn't occur to me then that I was making a thirteenth bet, but if it had, I would have been tickled because, I do like thirteen. If I had thought longer on it and realized that five dollars plus horse number eight equals thirteen I would have been further pleased. The five-eight combo didn't even ring a bell as the birthday of my Tuscan grandmother. A fleeting thought of Eight Belles passed through my head, poor girl, but mostly I was thinking that I had just spent two hundred and thirteen dollars on one horse race. It was madness.

As I left the track, I flash backed to the big red-headed guy I had overheard telling one clerk that it was Dunkirk's day. I kind of hoped he was wrong, because I only had one combo with his name on it. Oh well, a quick stop at the packie and I was home to dig in and enjoy the race.

It took me a little bit of time to sort out my bets and make some charts and familiarize myself with which horses I had bet on. My list broke down to fourteen horses. Fourteen out of nineteen, it would be impossible to keep track of all my combinations during a two minute race so I just decided to have a big ass bottle of beer and watch. I had a fistful of bets and a good part of my strategy depended upon a tiny gelding whose name, Mine That Bird, I didn't even know when I placed my bets. A horse who had been bought for less than ten grand and had been hauled to Kentucky by pick-up truck. It turned out to be a great race and my guy won, but in the end I was very reluctant to believe that my number had come up.

The length of time the jockey rode my winner around afterward make me really nervous thinking something was wrong. I had forgotten that Mine That Bird's trainer had a broken ankle and had insisted on walking his horse to the starting gate, refusing to use a wheelchair or other assistance. Now, he was walking to the winner's circle on his crutches and it was taking some time. I think I love this guy. When an announcer shoved a mic in his face asking a question about his ankle and winning the Derby, without slowing down, he made the snarkiest remark about how now maybe people will stop asking him about his fucking foot!

Fifty to one odds. Nice. The cruelest cut, and isn't there always one, is that the place and show horses finished at nearly the same time. Separated by a nose. If the show horse had placed, one of my perfecta bets would have paid out to the tune of over four grand. Big sigh. Still, coming out fifty bucks ahead is pretty damn good for me. At least it covers the cost of a good bottle of Kentucky bourbon.

Derby Week Already?

2009-04-27T07:29:00.019-04:00

At the Twin Spires, even the hats have names. The Queen Has Arrived...Not this queen and certainly NOT in this hat! The only way you'd ever catch me in a hat like this is if you rammed it onto my cold dead head.

Time certainly flies and here's hoping whichever horses I bet on do too. Yes, this year I have had such consistently bad luck with few exceptions that I have decided the odds are good that I may actually pick a winner. Sooner or later something has to give, right? I hope.

My plan this year is to totally avoid any information on the race. It has not been easy to turn away from the stories in the paper and on the internets, but I have. I feel like going with a numbers only strategy but most likely, I will go to the track early on Saturday and pick up a racing form and see if I can divine clues that will mean something only to me. It's all about significance and hidden deeper meanings. Then again, I should go with my first choice and pick by number. Oh crap! I'm already boned by indecision. I could get so addicted to gambling.

Therefore I will now change my focus to fashion and one of the more campy aspects of the first Saturday in May. The hats. It's all about the hats...Gotta keep that nasty old sun off of our peaches and cream complexions.

This one is called Emma and is the bargain of the bunch at three hundred dollars.

Steppin' Out is gonna cost you a grand.

This one is called Spunky and prompts me to ask the age old question "Are we not men?"

Organized? In what way? Perhaps they are referring to crime because this one is over a thousand dollars.

I might actually be seen in this one at my next croquet match, even though I think Mary Jane is a stupid name for a hat.

Queen Liz and her consort at the Derby two years ago. I loved seeing the odds posted on what color hat she would wear. It was the one thing I was right about that year.

Our own inimitable Hat Sisters. A Boston P-towne institution. Wonder what they'll be wearing on Saturday?

Kenmore Square Neon Citgo Sign

2009-04-20T23:49:00.003-04:00

Remember when the Citgo sign was a distant second place in the neon contest along the Charles? Oh the Coca-Cola sign in Allston was truly breathtaking. And the White Fuel sign was no slouch either. Now the Citgo sign seems much the worse for wear, yet it still manages to retain much of its majesty. I love the look of it now, a little down on its luck maybe, but so gracefully combining the many mismatched colors of replacement tubes. It's like a quilt made of light. Humble folk art that evokes some of the most precious and sacred memories of us all. In miniature it would make a great headstone. For the love of God, would someone send me guitar part for this bass line?

Psycho Date with the Kozmetiz

2009-04-07T18:05:00.001-04:00

Happy Birthday Jack, here's some Fisheye Brothers for you. Everybody wins!

2009-03-12T08:02:00.009-04:00

I was born in Lowell. Never lived there, but I was born there. At Saint Josephs Hospital which was later absorbed by Saint Johns, a different Catholic hospital in Lowell and that amalgamation is now known collectively as Saints. Saint Josephs was deep in the heart of some of Jack's territory. Pivotal scenes from Dr Sax take place virtually across the street at this insane sort of drive-thru Stations of the Cross. If anyone is interested in touring some Jack places, message me. It's been awhile since I've had a willing victim and it would be fun.

Once I got to college my friends and I visited Jack's grave regularly, often skipping classes to do so. One after hours visit involving a bottle of Wild Irish Rose led me to make some shaky decisions. First of all, do not visit Kerouac's grave on the anniversary of his death. It's way too high profile. And take it from me, do not ever use the hood of your car to boost yourself over a chain link fence when you are wearing round toed hightops. Naturally, this was the night the cops showed up and we had to make a run for it. There was no time to spare and after some spastic high speed windmilling I managed to make the top of the fence. Hmmm...top of chain link sharp! I have a scar on my inner thigh that I can say was the result of a leopard attack and be believed by an otherwise reasonable person. Thanks to the Wild Irish Rose it didn't hurt a bit. Until I had to explain what happened when I got the tetanus shot. All things considered it was so worth it. I mean really, what a great scar to have in reserve to show to Willie when I met him in another year or so.

Willie's a big Jack fan and I just fell in love with his song Kerouac when I heard it. To me it was such an intensely local song and that's one thing I really love about Willie's work to this day. His deeply detailed and compassionate homages to people or places that he knows up close are still fascinating to me now and sounding better than ever. This Fisheye Brothers project I've posted here is something that Willie collaborated on with one of the drummers he works with, Jim Doherty. Jim has recently opened a recording studio in downtown Portland Maine. For these songs, Willie sang from his notebooks and played piano and Jim took the tapes home with him and added all the rest. I hope you like them as much as I do.

Here's a photo I took of Willie one summer in front of the Stations of the Cross drive-thru.

Old e-mail to Ra about Kennie.

2009-03-10T22:40:00.005-04:00

This picture was taken on Martha's Vineyard, the last time I saw Kennie. We stopped at the liquor store on the way home from the airport and she bought a gallon of vodka. She drank it mixed with Gatorade, rarely slept and ran the television constantly. We couldn't get her to go for a ride to the beach, but we did go out to dinner one night at the Harbor View Hotel, also pictured above. We sat on the porch afterwards as night fell, looking out on the tiny harbor and light house. For some reason we started talking about The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down and it came out that she felt like Joan Baez had done the definitive version. I made a sound like I'd been shot and started choking and sputtering about the Band. Laughter from the street made me shout out "Baez or Band?" and harumph with satisfaction when "Oh BAND!" came back in retort.

A message dated June 1, 1999

Hi, how is everything? It is so fucking hot here I am sweating like a whore...it's embarrassing. I was at the studio doing my chores and I was just dripping, and I was only standing around yammering.

Spoke to Kennie Sat. night. She sounds well considering what she's been through. She's convinced the nurses are taking her meds and I wanted to say well, they're junkies and all they care about is getting high, but I thought the better of it. No sense in reminding her of better times. ha ha.

One thing I have to tell you. She was talking about how she ended up in the hospital. I couldn't quite understand where she said she'd been. (And I wrote this down at the time I was so blown away.) "I only got a little cut on my foot. They had this little fountain and I was walking through it and stepped on a broken champagne glass." I just love that she's having all these fabulous visions. Like I told you before, I wouldn't take it so much to heart that she asked for her 'birthday bourbon' as she isn't totally coherent yet anyway. She seems like she's still in that half awake and yet still dreaming kind of state. I LOVE IT when that happens.

I wonder where Jeri-Ann is?

Love QT

Ra went through so much taking care of Kennie and being there for her. He can never be thanked enough. We later found out that Jeri-Ann was hopping freight trains and riding aimlessly around the country. God, I miss my friends...

Beachcombovers

2009-03-07T07:16:00.003-05:00

I suppose if you're a Beachcombover the surf is always up, but for you 'normals' out there it looks like this weekend will be a good time to haul out the old Woodie and dust it off and get down to waxing those boards. Spring is still officially two weeks away but I know you're all gonna jump the gun today so here's some inspiration for you.

I know there was talk of adding a singer and/or keyboards so the line-up may have expanded but these are the credits for the video that I lifted off of YouTube:
Beachcombovers at the "Church" nightclub in Boston, MA USA 8/21/08 play Nokie Edwards
"Surf Rider"
Tommy White - Surf Guitar
John Cahill - Surf Drums
Bruce Scott - Surf Bass

Geezers Garage Nite at the Granite Rail

2009-02-25T06:16:00.015-05:00

What with the Depression soon to be upon us I look forward to lots more cheap entertainment being available. Keeping it fresh and local and one step ahead of the big crash is my buddy Geezer. He's gotten together some musicians and a local tavern to start up a showcase of both homegrown and not so local talent. I freely admit to being a north of Boston girl, and I don't mean North Shore either! I'm well inland and a little freaked out by a big ass city like Quincy, but one day I hope to overcome my fear of driving south of Boston and get myself to one of these shows. The line-up this week looks very impressive. Can I get a volunteer to ride shotgun? I managed to corner Geezer and get the scoop on what's coming up this week and beyond! Here's what he told me...

Quincys only Garage Nite!
FEB 27th GARAGE BLOW OUT
7:30 Lonesome Lil and the Boy's ( lillian donnelly)
8:00 The Peculiar ( great Local alterative ROCK band)
8:30 Adam Earley ( comming down from Maine solo set)
9:00 Jay Allen and the Arch-Criminals (Catchy old school)
9:30 Frank Rowe (Classic Ruins) solo Set
10:00 The Ten Foot Pole Cats ( great blues band)
11:00 Jeff Crane (Classc Ruins)solo set
11:30 Geezer Deluxe (the RAW garage stuff)

A long time Quincy tavern known for good pizza the Granite Rail Tavern at 16 Cottage Ave in Quincy (617-479-2726) has opened the place to local musicians and beyond. A night of old and new friends, musicians and family. The opening act "Lonesome Lil and the Boys" is my daughter, 17, singing and on piano, my son, 15, on drums and me on lap steel or acoustic guitar, playing Hank Williams Sr. covers, folk songs and some original americana. From then it's garage r'n'r bands, old school boston r'n'r guys, local alternative rock bands and solo folk/americana blues band. Classic rock, just a mixed bag. We're no music snobs at Geezers Garage Nite, I want everyone to play that wants to, I get as many acts up as I can. The garage nite is once a month, usually near the end of the month and hosted By Geezer Deluxe. We ask for a 5$ suggested donation that is stuffed into an old oil space heater. The bands can sell Cds or merchandise. Basically, it's a night out for us old Guys/Gals to get together and pick out some tunes and bring younger musicians in on it so if any musicians want to throw in with us, the more the merrier. Just get in touch on the Geezers Garage Nite at the Granite Rail Myspace

And just a look at next months March 27th Garage Nite:
the Dirty Shames (New York City)
Tokyo Tramps (Fun Band playing Bluesy country)
Rustbbucket (great jammin r'n'r)

Hi, it's me, Tontileo, again. I couldn't find any vids of the Granite Rail. We have to rectify that in the future, but here's some footage of a brush fire in Quincy. The tapes of people jumping into the quarries were pretty cool, but I don't want to encourage that type of dangerous and possibly illegal behavior here. Besides this one has firemen! Putting out a fire with push brooms. I wonder if that's why they call it a brush fire?

The Unattached. Genetically Stupid NOT!

2009-02-07T09:15:00.000-05:00

I got this great Metrowave tape from Jaded Jase and I've been looking around to try and find some info on The Unattached and can find very little. How funny is it that I just had to change the spelling on the widget. Unattached only has one N, your queen, not two. I managed to find this little blurb from Chuck Warner on his Hyped to Death site.

Unattached -EP (Bisque-18) The last thing that we released. Jaime Sever had started out in the Jetsons, and helped run the legendary Gulcher collaborative/ cooperative back in Bloomington, Indiana. He moved back to Worcester, MA where the Unattached recorded some demos (Volume insists there was a 19822 Unattached cassette in circulation). Jetsons fans have some idea, perhaps, of how great "Genetically Stupid" was, live. They played Boston on occasion but they were superstars in Wormtown...they just never thought about putting out a record. Oh yeah, and they broke up all the time. I got them to re-form for the Let's Breed! record-release parties (10 bands, two nights at the Rat) and again for the first Chain Link Fence record-release party, I think, but it wasn't til '87 that they stayed together for any length of time. Anyway, the EP is sorta over-polished and over-raw at the same time, and it might have launched a very profitable career, except that Alice Cooper heard one of their demos and loved it --though he wanted to write new lyrics for it. He even invited Jaime and Mark to come and play on "Trash", which was of course a big hit and re-established Alice's career, but Jaime and Mark celebrated this brush with fame by firing their long-suffering rhythm section and that was the end of them. And Throbbing Lobster.

I am further intrigued and decide to do more research. Genetically Stupid
has long been imprinted on my brain. Very catchy stuff and I follow some clues and find a site for The Jetsons, the band who first did the song and have been kind enough to include it on their page. My quest for info on The Unattached continues in my immediate circle of The Coalition of the Fabulous with a call to a dear friend I'll call...oh, let me see...Deep Throat. I'm going to both protect the identity of my source and try to ward off more taunts that I am a name dropper. I admit, that made me wince. In my defense, I am trying to maintain a somewhat historical perspective here and you can't have history without details and names happen to be an important detail. Besides, no one reads this shit anyways and we're all friends here, right? Well, mostly friends. So I ask DT and he tells me I should ask Gerry Lehane. Oddly, the same answer I get to about 37% of my questions. Gerry emailed me back. "Jamie Sever, he's around. I'm not sure how you would get in touch with him though. I believe Simon Ritt was in the band."

Why Simon Ritt is the love of my darling old friend Jan, yet another member of The Co-Fabs, and I write her to find out what she has to say.

"Yes, Simon was the bass player and is on their EP which we have a box of down in the basement! Jamie Sever used to walk around Kenmore with a white rat on his shoulder...Mike Zadroga was the drummer, Mark Frazier was the guitar player. They had the number one local single on BCN for a bit and they were in the Battle of The Bands...I don't think they won..Jamie Sever went on to be in the Fighting Cocks..."

With her encouragement, I wrote to Simon for more and he graciously responded.

"I played bass w/ the Un's for a few years through their Rumble/Throbbing Lobster era or what I prefer to think of as their 'Golden Period'. I do recollect doing a couple of live radio broadcast's w/ 'em....was metrowave on WERS? F.Y.I. Jamie (the singer) Is a stay @ home dad of 2 great little girls. He's NEVER been on a computer but I'll let him know I heard from you via the traditional telephone talking device. I'm also glad to inform you that Mark Frazier the boneheaded guitarist gave up music & left Boston years ago. The drummer Mike Z lives In NYC & Is a T.V. sound Tech. with a great job working Pro-Sporting Events."

I have left out some of the more salacious details of their emails, hysterical as they were. I do TRY to be discreet. Sometimes. Check out The Darlings to see what Simon is up to these days.

Poking around in the internets a little more yielded this nugget of lore from sleazegrinder. This guy's stuff is great. It is like crack to me. Or whatever highly addictive illegal substance the kids are all doing now. Frankly, I can't be bothered to keep up to speed on what the kids are doing these days. I'm going to post a quote and hope that they don't kill me, but really, check out the stuff this guy writes. It's pretty cool.

"So anyway, we're waiting to get in on the guestlist and these two beat-looking tattooed, cowboy junkies are on us like flies on sherbert with the "Yo, Vinnie" Reveah-Beach accents, completely covered in bad tattoos--even worse than mine---glammed-out, to the hilt. Headbands, stretch jeans, pirate hoops, cowboy boots, scarves, Lip Service vests---babbling about Dogs D'Amour and G.G. Allin. They embraced the whole cliche'. Us, too. Immediately, they're talking over one another, telling us how they're, "Like, da only glam dudes in Boston-except for dis one other guy, Simon, from the Unattatched, and uh, the Voodoo Dolls, and
Tony Triggah from da Love Junkies, dis Cats 'N' Boots guy. And uh, Desi and Jimmy from da Touch Me Hookers, and Rafe from da Royal Pimps, who used ta be da Blackjacks, and anotha band called, uh, Jet Black Somethings, and dis hot girl singah from da Seventh Veil. She's gonna go crazy when she sees you, dude!" I can still somehow remember their names were Eric and Rob and I later went to a David Bowie concert with them, but that was pretty much my first conversation with any Boston locals. My initial introduction to Boston.
Not everybody there was like Rob and Eric."

So that was my adventure researching The Unattached. If anyone has any photos or other information or memorabilia on them send it along and I'll put it up.

Many thanks to Jaded Jase for having the wits to tape some of these fantastic Metrowave shows. I have one more from him up my sleeve that I'll put up soon. I know there are issues with the sound on the tapes I've posted from Metrowave and other MBR and ERS shows. I don't mind at all. They sound just like I remember, hell, I only lived 25 miles North of Boston and I could only hear those stations on a clock radio in a house across the street. The tapes I made on fucking Charles Street have rough spots on them and Emerson was just four blocks away and MIT was just over the river. Crazy. These tapes are beyond precious since someone at Emerson dumped boxes and boxes of the originals in the trash when they moved. Feel free to be pissed about that and send me any tapes you might have and would like to share.

You Got Good Taste...

2009-02-05T08:25:00.003-05:00

Always, always a good time and a good show. Sounds simple, but not so easy to pull off. Never underestimate the searing power of a shirtless man wearing spike heels with trousers that look like they've been painted on with black nail polish.

A Taste of Honey

2009-02-04T07:51:00.008-05:00

Is it lame that I am really amused by this clip?

You don't see production values like this every day. And it reminds me of a Magritte painting called A Little of the Bandits' Soul too. It's win win!

Rene Magritte, photographed by Lothar Wolleh in Brussels, 1967

Groinoids

2009-01-28T10:57:00.001-05:00

It may sound like a strange thing to say, but I found the Groinoids to be very refreshing, aside from the fact that some of them could have passed for semi-grown-up Opie Griffiths. Mongee always sounded so earnest as he screamed out his gut wrenching words. Rico made sure that things went fast, churning whining noises out of his guitar and somehow managing to sound a little low profile at the same time. Cheese on bass ended up being the workhorse, holding it all down while everyone else was messing around and having a time. Big Daddy seemed to just pull random shit out of his ass and yet it all worked! Some of their songs appeared originally on the seminal This is Boston Not L.A. release and now we've been treated to a 7" vinyl of a session from Radiobeat. I say get it. This disc would make a fine addition to anyone's collection. I happen to be lucky enough to have scored a colored vinyl copy, and you can too. According to the dude who put out the record they are available for $6.25ppd in the US or $8.50 international. Paypal payments go to orders@i-dealrecords.com The 1st press is 500 records (350 on black, 150 on green/brown vinyl). Mail orders get color copies till sold out. Some of the original band members are planning reunion shows. Check their website for the most current details on where and when.

The Scott and Zelda of Broad Street

2009-01-24T11:05:00.003-05:00

By the way intrepid blog followers...

2009-01-23T07:13:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year. I've decided to lower my standards and post more often. Yes, I hear the howling among you...feel free to add any smartass remarks about my standards below. Then bite me.

Button, button. Who's got the button?

2009-01-21T02:42:00.011-05:00

We need a MySpace page for buttons. Here are a few cherished ones from my collection. Two by the illustrious Betsy Sherman, at one time a fixture at any and all rock or wrestling events. I'll post more as they turn up and now that I've shown you mine, I'd love it if you'd show me yours.

Best Christmas Song Ever!!!

2008-12-20T09:21:00.010-05:00

Now this post is an interactive one, I hope you all don't mind. This is the best Christmas song ever, as I have already said in the title, but there is no video. So, I kinda made my own. Here's the interactive part. Pay attention. First you hit the play arrow on the video, mute the volume and make sure to pause it at the beginning. The deer will be sitting by himself in a snowbank. Then you start the song. When the singing starts, unpause the video. At the instrumental parts, pause the video. When the vocals start again, unpause the video and so on and so forth. That's it. That is all you have to do. Now that you've got the gist of it, I hope you enjoy it...

The Dogmatics run a close second with their Christmas song, but even they pay homage in their song to this one. Axe will rock!

Dirty Eddie, Debussy and Hair Man

2008-12-09T05:50:00.006-05:00

It is common knowledge that Dirty Eddie is Willie's best friend. His drumming and expansive imagination as recorded here help explain why. These performances from Birdland, a studio located down on the Cape, are presented here for your pleasure.

Human Sexual Response Reunion

2008-11-21T20:13:00.007-05:00

Yes, I really wrote that that the Humans are having a reunion, you are not dreaming. I really wish I could go to this, but alas, it is just not to be. I'd be jealous of all my friends that will be performing and attending this spectacular event if I didn't love them all so much and wish that they all have the best time ever.

Boston Punk Rock Oral History Project

2008-11-20T01:38:00.003-05:00

Boston Punk Rock OHP Intro!

Please, please people, for the love of all that is rock and roll-y participate in this project. Check out their site and you'll see that all that these historians are asking for is your story in your own words. This is a subject that is near and dear to my heart, the history of my beloved Boston Rock scene, so don't be shy. Don't be stingy, share you stories with everyone! This is especially important since Joe Harvard's indispensable site, Rock in Boston, is no longer available. Hopefully, this is temporary. It would be an immeasurable loss to those of us interested in the world of Boston Rock.
Juli Krysler ON: Dead Kennedy's 1980 Boston appearance

This is lifted from their YouTube page...
"The Boston Punk Rock Oral History Project page is going to be an ongoing work in progress.If you were part of the "scene" between 1978-1985 (*a few years earlier or later is ok too) We would love to hear from you. We can either arrange to meet you to record your thoughts and experiences or go ahead and record yourself. Then we will make it possible for these videos to be on here. Where this project will take us is anyones guess. The biggest purpose is to record peoples impressions, and memories. When we were involved and participating in it, no one had any idea that anyone would be interested decades later. We will be coming up with specific topics that we think need to be covered so keep checking back. Everyone's memories and impressions are important, be they negative or positive. We would also really like to hear from individuals that came through town with bands at that time. Boston as seen through the eyes of outsiders!
So let the recording begin."

Don't know about you, but I'd love to hear what stories these outsiders would tell.
The Cure - Secrets (Boston, 21 April 1980)

Kenne Highland 2008 Sessions

2008-11-15T00:38:00.001-05:00

I don't know what it is, but I have always just loved being in the studio or at radio stations. The work that goes on at either place fascinates me, though much of it I find incomprehensible. In case you have some of the same obsession, here's some vids I found of my old bud Kenne Highland over on up to the YouTube t'other day. Yee ha! Roll 'em!!! Put the saddle on the stove because I'm riding the range tonight...Oh, by the way, I cut and pasted the descriptions off of YouTube.

Kenne Highland 2008 Session, pt 1 percussion / rhythm guitar 10.14.2008

Kenne Highland formerly with the Gizmos banged out 11 tunes on guitar & vocals with Happy Room Studios engineer Steve & percussionist unextraordinaire Sean in a monster all day marathon...results hopefully out in 2009? Extra thanks to Tim Carter (Assbeaters, French are from hell) for use of his guitar! This portion focuses on the initial basic tracks laid early in the day.
Kenne Highland Sessions Oct 16, 2008, pt 2

Kenne Highland Sessions 10/16/2008 pt 3

Kenne Highland recording guitar tracks including Redneck White Trash AND vocals for Ballad of GG Allin at Happy Room Studios
Kenne Highland 2008 Sessions, pt 4 VOCAL TAKES

Kenne Highland Recording at Happy Room Studios on October 14, 2008 pt. 4 - vocal take mania.

Untitled Playlist

2008-11-12T07:45:00.012-05:00

I recently received a package in a plain brown wrapper. It was strange to find it on the drawbridge side of the moat, and the contents were stranger still. Only this small, very colorful photo and an unmarked CD with some music on it. This guy looks familiar to me, maybe a guest villain from an old episode of Batman or something? Or maybe I saw him once on Broad Street? He sure looks like a maverick. Anyway, the CD was pretty good so I submit it here to see if anyone can help me unravel this odd mystery. The only other clue I have is that he consorts with this four-legged Furry Ninja Hellbitch whose unholy screeching caterwaul could cause all the Banshees of the world to wet themselves. Be careful.

DMZ Reunion

2008-11-10T10:23:00.019-05:00

You're Gonna Miss Me

This is the second show I've been to recently at Church. The first being the 30th anniversary of my beloved Axe. I was a lot more comfortable going out this time, it'd been only a couple of months instead of six years. I parked in the lot behind the bar. There was not another human in sight. Or so it seemed. As I turned from the car I saw a long hulking shadow begin to emerge from between the cars in the darkest part of the lot sporting the business end of a burning cigarette, glowing in the night. Oh Christ!!! It was Rico. Lurking and lurching around in the blackness, smoking a butt. "Jesus, I was trying to be fashionably late and you show up even later. Bastard!" We went in. Or rather, I went in. He ran into the Psycho bassist on the sidewalk and stopped to finish his cigarette and chat. No, not A psycho bassist, THE Psycho bassist. A couple of puffs later, the bass player from Hixx showed up. I was sensing a pattern here. Pattern? Get it? It's a bass joke. Look it up. The first people I saw once I was past the door were Blowfish and Miss Lynn, they were digging the sounds and it was nice to catch up with them again. I've decided if I go anywhere now and Blowfish and Miss Lynn aren't there, I'm not staying. They are that reliable a barometer. As a matter of fact, they should cut out the middle man and run their own club.

I'd left the yammering on the sidewalk for the hammering in Church. The New Frustrations were already playing. I really like them. They sound so clean and garage-y at the same time with a boatload of pop sensibility thrown in for good measure. Real catchy stuff. Later on, Tim showed me a piece that had broken off the top of his guitar, but I missed how that happend. Daang! Geezer found me in the crowd and introduced himself and he was with Jaded Jase. We all have a lot of fun wisecracking and messing around on MySpace. Check out their sites to hear the music they make. The one problem with these nights out is that there is never enough time to catch up with everyone. After making a sloppy lopsided round of the place, I finally set up camp with Frank Dehler and his lovely wife, The Bride of Frank. I love Frank, he is an inspiration. Looking back, I realize that watching Frank play with the Axe was the beginning of my love for the bass. And how can you not love someone who tells you that seeing you talking to Marsman across the room brought to mind a line from a Wallace Stevens poem, "She sang beyond the genius of the sea." It was shaping up to be a good night, so I settled onto a stool and chatted with the Dehlers and waited for DMZ to play.

photo Carol Kowalski

God forbid that things should ever go too smoothly though. I made the strategic mistake of sitting at the end of the rail that stands between the bar and the soundboard. Naturally, some drunkass guy wearing big studded belts set himself up against the post and he was talking with his buddy who must have been hard of hearing because drunkman was screaming his end of the conversation at the top of his lungs. So, he's already talking loud and then he started to accompany himself with enthusiastic and sweeping hand gestures resulting in him spilling his drink on me a little. Repeatedly. When he leaned back against the post that was sort of connecting us, his big-ass studded belt was poking me in my big ass and he kept backing into me and rubbing up against me. It was totally by accident, he was just really into his conversation with his buddy and oblivious to all else, but it was last annoyance I could tolerate at his hands so I moved over to the banquette and watched some guy taping the show on reel to reel. That was a lot more fun than it sounds. I was also conveniently set up behind the soundboard which is one of my four favorite places to be for a show, the others, in no particular order being dressing room, side of the stage or center back. When Rico came over to touch base I told him to grab his stuff and move it over because I had been forced to move from my other spot to get away from some guy who was feeling my ass for five minutes. Do you know what he said??? "Oh, it takes more than five minutes to feel YOUR ass." Then he waited with that 'hmmmm...I wonder if she's gonna kill me?' look. I was pissed because that was the funniest thing I've heard in like, well practically, EVER! My feeble retort "Well yeah, it does if you do it right!" was just reflex. It had no power. I got him back just a tiny bit a little later though when he was telling me he had a really good time running around Church and acting like a buffoon. "Oh believe me, that's no act!' Shit. It's gonna take me a really long time to get him back for that one. Someday Petroleum, your uppance will come!

DMZ was amazing. The band sounded so tight it was scary. It was kind of strange seeing Monoman without his organ in front of him. He looked like a new kind of naked. With all his jumping around and tambourine smashing I was afraid he was going to spin off his axis and into another universe or something. He had lots to say between songs and I missed out on most of it. I'm either deafer than I think I am, or the sound in that place is not so good. Jeff was hollering for more monitor and when he descended into begging for it, I felt kind of bad. I guess we're all deaf now. If anyone has any idea what he was ranting about before he bellowed "Joe Strummer is DEAD to me" I'd love to know the gist.

After the show I told Jeff they sounded fantastic and that was not easy in that place. He laughed as he pulled out a soft rectangular case from his bag. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a smaller fabric pouch which he opened. Inside that was a small case for his sunglasses. He put them in the case, and reversed the process, putting the case into the pouch and that back into the largest bag. It was like a Russian nesting doll sunglass holder. The reel to reel deck turned out to be a star of the night also. I was further entertained by Jeff trying to put the machine back into the case. Yes, surprise, the reel to reel was his. Analogman. That sounded kind of clever in my head, but it just doesn't look right written out...Anyway, he was trying to get the thing into the case which wasn't going to happen because he was trying to stow it in the top half of the case and it just would not fit in that way. I noted that aloud from the start, but he continued going at it with some confusion and much head scratching. Finally, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going about things the wrong way. The correct configuration of case and deck were achieved at last and as he snapped it shut Jeff was nice enough to note that I had been right all along and thanked me for the help. No problem man, anything for one of my rock star pals. You should have been there. I highly recommend the Marsman nights at Church. His DJ skills are superb and you'll run into lots of fun people and not all of them will touch your ass.

Frances Farmer Gals

2008-11-07T11:53:00.005-05:00

The Frances Farmer Gals were a band my dear old friend Jeri-Ann formed when she moved out west. She sent me a demo tape and I thought some of you that knew her would like to hear it. She sang and played bass. There was a club called The X-Ray that she played at often and I have included a live tape from a night The Gals played. I particularly love the Matthew Hein cut.

Here we are at one of my legendary birthday parties. I'm sorry if I appear to be boasting, but I am just stating a fact. It was. 'Party of the Year' was a phrase I heard others use to describe the debauchery many times. Yes, that is Chet in the background and yes, most of the pictures from that night were creatively framed. Jeri-Ann was one of the most generous and loving people I have ever known. She will forever be dearly missed.

Here she is with her beautiful boy, Nikki Bo.

Axe did rock, tape didn't roll...

2008-09-12T05:14:00.007-04:00

Hello babies, long time no see. I just got back from celebrating the 30th anniversary of Unnatural Axe and I have learned some hard lessons. First and most important, if you haven't used your equipment in awhile - take it out and play around with it a bit before you go out and attempt to use it in public. This applies to many things, but in this case I am talking about my camcorder. I decided to dust off my wide angle lens to shoot the second night of Axe celebration at Church and then I decided that I didn't like the fisheye effect and removed the offending lens, not realizing that I left a section of it on my camera which made it impossible to focus on anything for the rest of the night. So I now present the brief warm-up I did before I screwed up. It's historical is my story and I'm sticking to it. Miss Chain being presented by Richie to Willie with iconic personas passing by is a precious sight and I can only hang my head in abject shame that I missed the tableau of Cheeta Chrome paying Willie homage and then presenting his impossibly blond curly headed tyke to Willie as if to the Pope for a blessing. I'll always remember that, it was almost like watching animated stained glass, the scene was so darkly vibrant. It was a good night. Can't wait for their 50th.

"Twas the Night Before Axemas

2008-08-21T03:23:00.010-04:00

And all through the lands,
The old punks are getting ready,
To hear their favorite bands...

No Cantone's, no Rat, Jumpin' Jack Flash or Inn Square,
No Storyville or Underground and Streets is not there,
No Channel, no Club, no Mavericks, no Space...

Where will we all go?
Looks like Church is the first place...

Great interview from the venerated Boston Groupie News.

More Beachmasters...on Metrowave

2008-08-15T12:50:00.004-04:00

Well, I guess I'd better put this up before it's too late. Summer is slipping away. Full disclaimer: I managed these beachbums for a time and ended up no worse for wear just a little richer and very tired of finding sand in every nook and cranny. However, the many royal blue WD40 sized cans of beer I consumed at The Boston Beach Club have foamed and washed away the memory of everyone's Beachmaster name. Some input would be good here 'cause I really don't feel like researching this right now. I just wanna surf. But first, here's The Beachmasters, live from Hawaii on Metrowave from 1985.

The Piranha Brothers

2008-08-10T04:08:00.008-04:00

Here's a tape that was sent to me by a bright young fellow I have run into on MySpace. I'm hoping that JJ will grace us with some of his undoubtedly fond memories of the The Piranaha Brothers. Turn it up now and rock your Sunday Brunch.

Aaaaand, JJ writes in;

As for the Piranha Brothers, they were a garage band from Quincy circa early/mid 80's that consisted of three brothers Mark (Stig) on guitar, Paul (Magoo) on bass and Gerard (Jeebs) on drums. Jimmy O'Halloran (Peter & Paul's older brother) rounded the quartet out on guitar.

They, like most of the bands I was in during that vintage, did most of their shows opening up for The Dogmatics, Last Stand, Del Fuegos, etc.

These days Stig & Jeebs are in the Swindells while Jimmy O plays bass for the reunion Dogmatics shows and Magoo is pretty much retired.

MacPodcast

2008-08-06T09:31:00.007-04:00

DitchBoarding (whitetrash wakeboarding) Trick Guide

Things are a little slow around here, so I've decided to dig deep down into my archives and see what I could come up with and I found some tapes that friends had made for me years and years ago and well, they're all podcasts to me now. This was from a tape I got from Bob MacKenzie, a name well known in drumming circles. I knew him best during his time with the Mighty Ions, Beachmasters and Underachievers. He's really worked with just about everyone. He also writes and sings and was lucky enough to marry the loverly Cilla, who fronted the Underachievers.

So here's a big shot of Beachmasters to start you off and some other choice cuts from Mackie's collection. Maybe this'll help jumpstart the sun this week. Whatever you do, don't surf alone...

Late Risers Club with Greg Reibman

2008-08-03T00:41:00.003-04:00

And a chunk of Needles and Pins with Plastic Jim.

I am New England's Bitch

2008-07-31T05:33:00.007-04:00

July 20, 2008

Well, I am and I don't care who knows it. Our neck of the woods is so
gloriously beautiful I can hardly bear it. Last night, the ocean at
twilight and this morning I was up early and decided a ride out Route
2 way would be the cat's ass. I was right, the foothills of the
Berkshires swathed in a hazy blue mist, listening to the Stones doing
Sway, I Got the Blues and so on...Heaven. The wildflowers this summer have been breathtaking and the road crews have done a really great job strategically mowing around large swathes of the blooming flowers. Especially in Maine. Last month, the hillocks of clover were in bloom
and it made me delirious to look at them, three tones of lavender just
tumbling down the hillsides beside each overpass. I wish more
landscapers would use indigenous plants, the colors and texture are so
perfect here. I guess the beauty is just too subtle for most people to
appreciate, but I'm crazy about the native plants daddy.

Then, there is the beauty of the Orange line in Malden. That is the
appointed meeting ground for my long lost twin brother and me. Said
twin would be Rico Petroleum, we don't really look alike and aren't
nearly the same age, but the dissimilarity ends there. We have twenty
years worth of catching up to do and we had just barely started
when I found out that Willie Loco was getting The Persistence of
Memory Orchestra together for a show in Gloucester. I knew we had to
go. Especially when I found out that Rico had never seen Willie
perform before. It was sweltering hot and by the time we got to Cape
Ann the temperature had dropped by ten degrees. How great is that? We
were early so we hung out by the Fisherman Memorial statue at the water. In the oldest seaport in America. With a statue of Joan of Arc in the center
of the city, the ass of her horse staring you in the face as you first
drive into the center square of the city. Love that.

The rain held off until just before the show started and Willie and
his Orchestra were fantastic. The church was full, and on the historic
register, by the time we got there so we sat in a pew up front, all
the better to watch the performance. There was a tremendous thunder
storm during the set and the long rows of stained glass windows would
suddenly be lit from outside with bright strobes of lightning as
cameras flashed intermittently at the band. Thunder booming, drums
crashing, Willie wailing, it was so cool. Willie was as relaxed and in
as a good a voice as I've ever heard, hitting the high notes as
effortlessly as a boy soprano. He was just sparkling and playing the
hell out of a new piano already decorated with myriad Goya labels, G's
removed so they read as multiple oya's all over the case. He was
having such fun it was infectious.

I think maybe Russ hadn't had as much time as he would have liked to
rehearse with the rest of the guys and for his benefit Willie called
out the key before each song and as each song wound down, he'd give
the horns a look and shortly afterward he'd give a hand signal to shut
it down. They also got a different look for mistakes and we were
really laughing over it. When WA sang Me & Stravinsky Now, he screwed
up a part of the vocal so the rest of the band, Rico and I gave him
our version of the look and I know he screwed it up three more times
on purpose, just because he thought it was funny to see our stares.
His capacity for joy just bursts out of him and is so refreshing. Even
when he does songs on the most somber of subjects, like Shopping Cart
Louie and Trash, it's beautiful and ends up being uplifting.

I was fairly sure that Rico would like the band, but you just never
know, so when he started digging them I was totally loving it and that
made the night even better. I love it when someone gets turned on to a
band I love that they've never seen before and it's even better to be
there when it happens. When he started losing it over Jim's drumming
and kept elbowing me to ask "Did you see THAT?" and "Are you watching
him?" it was all I could do to sit still and stop myself from yelling
"I told you so!!! I told you so!!!" In everyday life, Jim Doherty just
has this sort of slightly detached quality about him, as if he's
trying to constantly avoid information overload and then he sits
behind the drums and it's like every detail of what's been going on
around him is funneled into beating the hell out his kit. It's fucking
awesome. He's so in the moment. You have to treat yourself and go see
this guy sometime. I haven't seen Jim play in far too long and I must
say, he did not disappoint. Even Willie was constantly sneaking
sidelong peeks to watch Jim annihilate his drums.

When I was talking to Jim after the show he told me how happy he is to
be back in New England and living in Portland. He's in the process of
opening up a recording studio there and I just can't wait to see what
he's going to do with that. I only had a chance to say a quick hi to
Russ and Mark. Henri Ferrini was there and video taping. Can't wait to
see that. Henri's work never disappoints. Willie's brother Bob was
there and I hadn't seen him in ages and had a chance to catch up and
learned that there's a fast ferry from P-towne now. Gotta try that. I
wish I had words to describe how fresh and clean the air smelled as it
hit us in the face when we left the church. The tide had come in and
the atmosphere had been scrubbed by the storm, it was just
unbelievable. Talk about a breath of fresh air.

Great night, great show, and I'm back together with my twin brother
and laughing so hard it hurts. Mostly because we are like two
curmudgeonly peas in a miserable shriveled pod and agree on most
things. It's been so good, and helpful, to compare notes on the
similarities of child rearing and elder care, it's really scary how
the problems are all the same. Three jars of applesauce open and no
one eating out of any of them, not wanting to get out of bed and all
the 'stop touching me' bickering. On the way back to the Orange line,
Rico was raving about how great Willie was and then ranting about how
he saw Jonathan Richman not too long ago and even though Richman is
from Natick, he still sucks, his talent puny when compared to Willie.
He continued to testify about the injustice of it all, rivaling even
his blistering screed about a Capella being played on the radio. I was
just really happy he liked the band.

In a couple of weeks the Boom Booms are playing in Gloucester at a
park called Harbor Loop, next to Fitz Hugh Lane's house, right by the
ocean. Reddy Teddy is opening and the show should be fantastic. Willie
said he'd been seduced by guitars again and that's why he got the band
back together. Rico is already insisting that POMO are the better band
even though he has never heard the Boom Booms play live. We'll see if
the guitars can work their magic on him too.

Late Risers Club 1984

2008-07-30T05:38:00.006-04:00

Oh Blowie!!!

Late Risers Club promo

Tapes made possible by my friend LW, the mastermind behind Bluefingers. Thanks for one of the greatest jobs ever.

Larry and Todd hanging out on the stoop next door to the store on Charles Street.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Suade Cowboys...

2008-07-28T19:47:00.003-04:00

A Lethal Dose

2008-07-17T22:43:00.007-04:00

Ms Donna Lethal has graciously contributed this entertaining podcast for your listening pleasure. Please enjoy it responsibly...

Inspiration: Cesar Romero's "Thought for Today." I try and listen to
this every morning.
She Loves You: Peter Sellers + Nazi + Beatles
Transfusion: Nervous Norvus (from my "cars and accidents" playlist)
Girl on Death Row: Duane Eddy
That Makes It!: Jayne Mansfield ("so kinky!")
Blacula - radio spot
Apples and Oranges - Richard Dawson (yes)
Brown Sugar - alternate version
Sugar Sugar - Tom Jones
Yummy Yummy - Julie London
Yum Yum Girls - radio spot
Big Rock Candy Mountain - can I go here when I die? (Harry McClintock)
Rubber Room - Porter Wagoner (where I am now)
Buzzsaw Twist - it's the only way to go (The Gee-Cees)
If Jesus Came to Your House (it ain't the avon lady)
Here Comes the Judge - Pigmeat Markham
Caged Heat - radio spot
Dancing the Night Away - Motors
Zap! Pow! Do the Batman
Hong Kong Blues - Hoagy Carmichael
Mr. Ghost Goes to Town - John Buzon Trio
City of the Dead - Clash (the first Clash record I could find was this
10-inch and it changed my life. This song hit home - Lowell, MA in
1980 was pretty grim.)
Girl Can't Dance - Bunker Hill
Velvet Sugar - Velvets vs Archies (Mark Vidler's masterpiece)
Angels' Wild Women - radio spot
Spanish Stroll - Mink DeVille
Love Out of Time - Mr. Lethal!
Death Race 2000 - radio spot
Nut Sundae - I miss New England ice cream as Tontileo knows.
Another Girl, Another Planet - Only Ones
Edge of Reality - The KING!

Come To The Show

2008-07-11T00:51:00.001-04:00

I Got One...You Got One...

2008-07-09T05:40:00.006-04:00

Seeing as the red tide has abated, I felt safe in digging out my old clamshell mac to see what I had in iTunes there. With happy nostalgia the old operating system came right back to me with all its cute old fashioned icons and ways. There was quite a bit to sift through and I came up with a playlist for y'all. It is a little long but I could only leave out so much, so give me a break this time. Please. Here it is, I hope you enjoy it. Can you tell I like to wear my radio heart on my sleeve?

They Removed His Head...

2008-07-07T07:46:00.013-04:00

Wax Hitler Decapitated

I am very afraid. We already have it on the highest authority that they saved Hitler's brain. But we don't know the whereabouts of that godawful, unholy joyriding glass jar. Could this be the beginning of the end? Or is Adolph just preparing to attend the three night festival of Unnatural Axe 30th anniversary Celebration/Tribute shows in August?

Best vids ever!

2008-07-05T00:04:00.004-04:00

I am thoroughly ashamed of myself for taking so damn long to point out Dr Kruell's site to you. The undisputed best collection of video in the 'verse. It is a treasure chest of some of the best Boston bands ever with some Clash, Jam, Cure, Stiff Little Fingers, Damned, Buzzcocks...I think you get the idea. Lou Miami is there, Human Sexual Response, Neighborhoods. Just go look. Now! You'll love it.

La Peste - "Better Off Dead"

oooooh...a press release from Willie

2008-07-04T00:50:00.009-04:00

Willie Alexander- Basement Video #1

PRESS RELEASE FOR GENERAL CIRCULATION

ROCKIN’ THE MEETINGHOUSE!

Rock’n’roll legend Willie Alexander with the Persistence of Memory Orchestra consisting of drums, keyboards, saxophone, and clarinet will be performing at the Gloucester Unitarian-Universalist Church on Saturday, July 19th, 2008 at 7:30 PM. Tickets at the door: $15 General Admission; $10 Seniors (over 65) and Students (with ID). The grand 1806 Meetinghouse is located at the corner of Middle & Church Streets in Gloucester’s Historic District. See www.gloucesteruu.org. for more information.

Willie “Loco” Alexander is a multi-talented musician, whose career has traced the history of Rock for thirty-five years. From the Lost, a 60s garage-band that made a couple of records for Capitol, to the psychedelic late 60s Bagatelle, to a brief stint in the post-Lou Reed Velvet Underground, the Boom Boom Band in the punk 70s, which recorded for MCA, to an introspective take on the 80s recording for the French label New Rose, and renewed band energy in the 90s with the Persistence of Memory Orchestra, Willie has maintained a consistently high level of emotional and artistic integrity.

Willie was recently featured on the cover of “The Sound of Our Town” by Brett Milano, a history of Boston Rock’n’roll. In recent years Willie has performed with local bands The Megawatt Blues Crushers and Alek Razdan’s A-Train.

The Persistence of Memory Orchestra will accompany Willie’s vocals and keyboards at the upcoming Gloucester UU Concert, featuring Russ Gershon (leader of the internationally acclaimed Either/Orchestra) on tenor sax, Mark Chenevert (Chandler Travis Philharmonic) on tenor sax & clarinet, and Jim Doherty (Ibrahima’s World Beat and the Well Babies) on drums with surprise guests.

POMO will play material from their two self-titled albums on Accurate Records as well as from Willie’s new CD “The Fisheye Brothers,” a collaboration with Jim Doherty, inspired by Gloucester heroes and places. Persistence of Memory Orchestra’s second album “The East Main Street Suite,” has been described as “…a rich stew with a base of Rock’n’roll and elements of Jazz, Beat poetry, klezmer, samba and electronica mixed in. To say it defies category hardly does justice to the originality and uniqueness of this music.”

SUMMARY FOR LISTING:
EVENT: Willie Alexander & the Persistence of Memory Orchestra
DATE: Saturday, July 19th, 2008 at 7:30PM
LOCATION: Gloucester Unitarian-Universalist Church, corner of Middle & Church Streets in the Historic District
TICKETS: $15 General; $10 Senior (over 65) & Student (with ID) at the door, Special Needs community Free of charge.
INFORMATION: www.gloucesteruu.org

Sammy Davis Jr trousers

Jim "Howling Wolfchild" Keough presented by Daang! Radio

2008-07-01T14:13:00.016-04:00

I am so frikkin' proud to present The Great Broad Street Riot's first podcast sponsored by Daang! Radio. When you get sick of the same old radio, we give a Daang! I searched high and low, I got myself in a Stranglehold and was lucky enough to get out of it with a podcast fashioned by Jim "Howling Wolfchild" Keough who has excellent taste in both music and the bands he fronts. And Queens who have blogs about Broad Street. And lots of other stuff I won't mention here. Thanks Dude, you killed it.

I'll be needing a lot more of these. Don't act surprised when I come around and hound you for one, so you might as well just start volunteering now. All you have to do is pick some songs you like, burn them to a disc and send them in. I'll take care of the rest.

Enjoy!

I must apologize for adding in some videos to finish up the list as I had a few technical problems along the way. Hopefully, I will have secured some seasoned and competent roadies to help me with the gear for the next podcast. Competent roadies, yeah right.

Mission of Burma - That's how I...

Paul Weller "Come On Let's Go"

T. Rex - Dandy In the Underworld

rich kids - ghosts of princes in towers

Summertime

2008-06-30T16:55:00.011-04:00

Summertime is so fucking awesome...not the season so much as The Unnatural Axe song. Here I have a preview of one of three versions of Summertime recorded in 1988 at Mission Control studios in Westford MA. Sure New Kids on the Block recorded there, but I'm afraid nothing they did measures up to the Axe. Maybe because they didn't have Liz Ireland and Joe Viglione producing them, like the Axe did. The working title for this compilation of Unnatural Axe rarities, including more cuts from the studio and some live stuff, is Out of Control. Hopefully it will done in time for the Axe 30th anniversary jubilee. Watch for it on Varulven Records, Boston's oldest record label run by Boston's oldest...ah...nevermind...

What July 4th weekend would be complete without a viewing of Jaws, a classic summer movie if ever there was one?

Jaws Trailer 1975 Backwards

Check this out too. I like to refresh my memory on the details once a year.

And no, there is nothing that someone won't write a Broadway musical about.

1776

Country View Motel and Guest House

2008-06-24T16:24:00.012-04:00

Yesterday I took a ride to Ogunquit to meet up with Martine at the incredible Country View Motel and Guest House.

What a quaint and charming place to stay. It's decorated perfectly. Very country, but without a hint of cloying clutter. The rooms are so comfy, appointed with posh seating areas and porches. And they allow pets!

If you happen to be into the supernatural, they even have a haunted room. Martine asked me if I'd like to see it and I said NO. Then she told me the ghost was named Elsie May and she was known for turning the radio in there off and on during the night. Okay, seemed like light duty for a ghost, so on my way out I let her talk me into going in there. Smartass that I am, before I crossed the threshold I called out "Elizabeth, come find me..." The place is haunted all right. The second I walked in all the hairs on the back of my neck became fully erect and stayed that way while I said hi and told her I hoped she was okay before I walked out. She seemed nice, and I might stay there some time just out of curiosity, but it's best to be cautious about these things as spirits have a way of seeming really nice up front, and then just like the living, they can become real assholes once you get to know them. If I do stay there some night, I won't be having pea soup for dinner, if you know what I mean...

Michael

2008-06-22T03:45:00.012-04:00

After I wrote about The Girls, I was going to go ahead and write about Human Sexual Response, but I find myself needing to go even further back. I've been thinking so much about Michael, my friend who came up with the idea of going to the 1270 on Boylston Street in the first place. If you knew me, you would have known Michael too. But none of you do know him, because he died in a car accident on Labor Day in 1976. It feels strange to be missing him so acutely lately, after all this time.

No matter how I try, I can't remember how we met. Probably at the bar in Tyngsboro or maybe at a Dignity meeting at The Christian Formation Center. It wasn't as awful a place as it sounds, it was home to a group of Franciscans and a really fun place to hang out. And they let me serve the wine at communion sometimes, even though I'm not Catholic. Michael was dating a guy named Hobart, and they'd come over to my house a lot and on a night like tonight, we'd goof around in the yard at dusk playing frisbee, spinning in place until we became dizzy and fell down, or just screeching and generally acting like fools until it was time to go out. Or head over to The Center and hang out in the murky and luridly decorated grotto or follow a path through the fields and woods to the bank of the Merrimack River. Still doing kid stuff but adding in elements that, at the time, we thought were very adult. It didn't hurt that the drinking age was 18 either. Just having loads of fun all the time acting all dorky and wild.

Hobart and Michael were a great couple. We went to the drive-in to see a double bill of The Exorcist and Jaws one summer night. My first time seeing both of those movies. The Exorcist I've never seen again, thank you. Jaws became a lifelong obsession. We had such a good time that night, screaming and carrying on. Michael had seen both movies before so he knew all the scary parts and made sure to use that knowledge to great advantage in frightening the bejesus out of me. Michael and Hobart were always so happy together and it was a good time just being around them.

This was back in an era where being gay was just not done. Parents were always looking for 'a reason' to explain why their child was gay. Most often, friends were held responsible, and Michael's parents were no different. He had decided to be honest and come out to his mother and father and things at home became very strained after that, since they were not able to deny or ignore what was 'wrong' with their son. They knew where he was and what he was doing on those nights when he got home in the wee hours of the morning, and one night, after Hobart had dropped him off, the fighting was too much and they kicked him out of the house. Michael tossed his record collection and stereo into the trunk of his car, took a few clothes and headed in the direction of Hobart's house. He never made it that far. While listening to Dark Side of the Moon and driving a little too fast he lost control on a winding road, became airborne and slammed into a house. All that love, all that promise, that beautiful boy, my precious friend, lost in an instant.

It was really rough trying to come to terms with his death. I'd never lost a close friend, Hobart was inconsolable for days. He'd hugged me so hard at the calling hours that it left my torso strapped with bruises, he slept on the grave for the first night. Our hearts were so thoroughly broken we didn't know what to do, but we figured out quickly that we must celebrate Michael and who he had been. His birthday fell nearly one month to the day of his death. Hobart and I planned a party and brought a birthday cake covered in pastel roses and some champagne to the cemetery. We threw confetti and blew noisemakers, held our glasses high for a toast and played the car radio. We sat on the grass, sang Happy Birthday and we lit the candles and waited until the wind blew them out before we cut a big wedge of cake and left it for him. When we came back the next day, the cake had all been eaten away, but the frosting was untouched. It looked like a Dali painting, the colored frosting twisted and drooping on the plate.

Michael and I would have been inseparable in the Rock scene. After all, we liked dancing and we looked divine. I thought of him often at shows and how much he would have loved the bands. It hit especially close when The Humans would cover Rebel Rebel. That was one of our favorite Bowie songs to dance to. We agreed almost to a song which Bowie stuff sucked and which didn't. Dini took the lead vocal on Rebel Rebel and he sang the fuck out of it. Windle, Casey and La made noises that were utterly inhuman, no joke, rising in the background sounding like a marauding hoard of baboons from a parallel universe. Waving their fists and screaming "Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!" Michael would have loved it as much as I did. And he would have totally dug that it blew the Bowie version out of the water too and I'm sure we would have laughed as we did a wild, frenzied dance.

Usually, it doesn't make me sad to think about him, but lately I think I've been grieving a lot about what he missed. All the great things I've seen, all the fantastic music I've heard that he would have loved too. Especially the crazy ass bastards who were fool enough to be my friends, he would have loved you too. And I would have so dearly loved having him there and you all would have loved him too. Maybe that's why I always had such a great time being part of it all. I was out there watching and having fun for two.

Hobart finally retired and now has time to fix things around the house for me. We were talking about those old times and he told me how Michael would always get so giddy whenever he saw me. When he said that, I felt something in my heart click together. A few days later I swung by the cemetery and stopped at Michael's grave. "To know him was to love him" is engraved on his oval granite marker and that always cues up a variation by Marc Bolan in my head, so it's impossible not to smile. As I headed away I noticed the name of the path as if I had never seen it before. Robert B Gay Avenue. Now my Michael is staying on Gay Avenue. How he would have loved that. Still making me laugh after 32 years. If you happen to see us in whatever place there is that passes for heaven, stand back. We are gonna have a lot of catching up to do. And some serious rocking out to take care of.

Seventeen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-06-18T10:00:00.015-04:00

I was so touched by Russell and Garnett hugging each other after the game last night that I went looking for a motherfucking photo of that moment and found this interview. But no photo. What cool guys.

Kevin Garnett and Bill Russell Interview

Kevin Garnett & Bill Russell Conversation - 2 (Mar 6, 2008)

I hope someone out there remembers details from the night some of the Celts showed up at Brandy Pete's and is willing to share. Pretty please. You can be anonymous, so don't be shy.

Coach Doc Rivers' 2008 Gatorade NBA Finals Victory Splash

Coming soon...

2008-06-15T08:10:00.001-04:00

Teasers from Unnatural Axe Tribute

2008-06-13T01:03:00.014-04:00

Before I go any further I wanted to let y'all know that there are some cuts from the upcoming Unnatural Axe tribute disc on Lawless Records that are posted online. There are three songs up on the Axe's own site and Big Noise as covered by Stranglehold is also available for a listen. Now that's how you make a happy Queen. There will be a three night celebration and record release party in August, as more details become available I will keep you posted.

Oh hell, I got no pictures to post so I might as well put up another, very early version, of Hitler's Brain...

They Saved Hitler's Brain at The Rat

The Girls

2008-06-12T15:57:00.022-04:00

Dini and I hamming it up late one Easter night in the ladies room at Sporter's. I had forgotten how convenient that little shelf behind the toilet always was.

Well I suppose now is as good a time as any to start at the beginning. Or maybe not, depending on how linear of a person you are, but anyways here goes. My life in the rock scene was born in Boston in a seedy gay bar on Cambridge Street called Sporter's. Right around the corner from Mass General. Affectionately known to us as Spurter's. Not so hard to do the math on that one. A bar so notorious that when they remodeled the block a few years ago, they moved the entrance of the building to the other corner and gave the building a new number as the street address in an effort to remove the taint. Years later someone told me that Whitey Bulger used to hang out there sometimes, especially when we were serving the cheap three course dinners. That explained why the balding old guy peering out at me from the front page of the Herald so often looked so damn familiar. If only I had known when I was sending out his main course.

As usual, I'm getting way ahead of myself. In around 1975 I was meeting a lot of gay guys when I went to hairdressing school. We started going out to a bar in Tyngsboro. I loved my friends and loved clubbing, but did not love the music. After suffering through a million metal and hippie bands, something worse was afoot. Disco! How I hated it but that was what all the gay boys liked, so I was stuck with it.

Rather, all the gay boys except two. There was a DJ who I became friends with that worked at the bar and I could count on him to play my requests once in awhile, dancefloor-clearing as they might have been. He used to take frequent trips to Jamaica and bring back lots of records. These tunes did not fly at the bar and when he took to the dance floor and started skanking away it was an explosion of leg pumping and flying elbows. Anyone who was left trying to dance moved slowly away and stared at him, as if they were wondering if he be may on the verge of having a medical emergency.

As long as we're here, this is the same fellow who dubbed me Tontileo. He told me it was an American Indian word that meant 'rushing waters' and he had thought of it one evening when I had consumed excessive amounts of beer and spent half the night peeing in the woods. Oh, the fond, fond memories...This was just a couple of years after Jaws had made cinematic history as the first Hollywood Blockbuster ever and my DJ drove a white van that had a painting of a great white on the side that appeared to be lunging for you. The inside was tricked out in an appropriate undersea theme. It was just so over the top and hilarious. I wish I had pics of it. The only thing was missing was a dent.

My other friend with good taste was a rock fan and we found ourselves comparing likes and bitching about the intolerable rubbish we had to listen to there. One night when we were especially sick of it all, we enlisted a third and hit the road for Boston where he had heard about a place called the 1270 that might be more to our liking. It was and it wasn't, and someone there told us about the West End Tennis Club, the name Sporter's used to get around the Beacon Hill Civic Association. They told us there was no disco there and that they had a jukebox with a few decent songs on it, so off we went.

It became a habit. The place was always filled with interesting men. The Cosmic Muffin was a regular, there was even another woman there sometimes. I met my best bud Kennie there. First night I met her she let me crash on her love seat. I became a Sporter's regular, eventually ending up as an employee. The space would have made a great rock bar. Exposed brick painted a dark brick color, go figure, and a few nooks and crannies along with the three main rooms. It was small, but really cozy. I met a lot of life long friends there.

One night I was enjoying myself at the bar and Dini Lamot and Windle Davis walk up to me and introduce themselves and invite me to come and see their band, Human Sexual Response. Of course I would go. I mean c'mon? Dini, dark hair looking a little like Marc Bolan and Windle with his blonde hair reaching past his ass? They were like both sides of a gorgeous coin. These guys were fabulous and they brought me over and introduced me to their friend Slag, a film student at Emerson. I didn't find out until later that it was Slag who had dispatched Dini and Windle to meet me so that they could introduce me to him so that he could ask me to be in his film Straight to Hell. He was afraid I'd think he was some kind of crackpot and turn him down on the spot if he approached me with the request himself. Well, he is a crackpot and that's one of the major reasons I told him I'd do the film and I ended up loving him to death too. One of the funniest bastards you would ever want to meet.

I had told Dini and Windle that I would love to see their band and I did at the first available opportunity. That happened to be a gig that was at an American Legion or VFW somewhere on the way to Cleveland Circle. Here I was, practically fresh off the farm (Did I neglect to tell you that I'm a farmers daughter? That's another story...) about to see a double bill of The Girls and Human Sexual Response.

Girls - Keep it Simple

The gig poster had the slogan 'naked tits and hominy grits' splashed across it, but I saw evidence of neither that night. I was transformed, if you've never seen The Girls it's hard to describe. I guess the fact that I was really into the visual arts and was a particular fan of Dada and the Surrealists prepared me to appreciate the spectacle being laid out before me. They paid attention to every detail and gave excellent show. Smoke, mirrors, tapeloops, explosives, whatever it took. It's kind of scary, but the film does do them justice. Oh yes, this is just what I needed after being trapped on the farm at the very bottom of the swampy Merrimack River Valley for nineteen years having to sift through top 40 on the radio with crappy reception. Here was a whole tribe of spectacular misfits entertaining each other and not caring a whit what anyone else, especially 'normals', thought about it. It was gooood. I was in.

The Girls in the Bathtub

Do yourself a favor and check out their other songs Vietnam Women, Okey Dokey and We're All Living on a Cubist Grid. They put out one single, The Elephant Man/Jeffrey I Hear You. If I ever find my copy I'll try to post it. I wish I could remember the names of all the band members, but alas, demon alcohol has wiped out those brain cells long ago and all that's left is the name David Hild and I think he was the drummer, but I wouldn't bet on that. If anyone has more details, please comment.

to be continued...

Mighty Mighty Scottish Darleks vs Falsetto Bosstones Sock Puppet Theatre

2008-06-11T08:19:00.010-04:00

I need someone with the skills to make me a mash-up of these two videos.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones "You Gotta Go"

Darleks vs Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre

While trolling the internets for inspiration this morning I found this quote from Chuck Warner, president for life of Throbbing Lobster.

Chain Link Fence -Fireworks EP (Bisque-4) Believe it or not these guys
started off as an unbelievably earnest and sloppy popthrash band, but
Billy had his heart set on being a crooner. The results on this one
were pretty schizophrenic. Billy's younger brother Dickie Barrett
couldn't understand why I wouldn't sign his band, too. I told him
every rhythm section should know how to play ska, but no one should be
allowed to record it. Heh.

Big Brown at Belmont

2008-06-06T08:30:00.005-04:00

Here's a really good article about the race. Interesting point of view. If I get it together and make it to the track, I'm gonna box Denis of Cork with BB and Icabad Crane. I've liked Denis and Icabad since the Derby, I don't know why, I just do. That Japanese horse looks like he might be scary good though. I don't dare get too excited about the potential for a Triple Crown win. Don't want to jinx anything, I'm old school that way.

Here's a pic of Scott, me and Ra in the back room of Sporter's. Looks like I'm thinking deep thoughts like 'what happened to my makeup?' I always think of Ra on big party days 'cause going to his house you felt just like family. If you had a really cool family and all liked each other that is. Well maybe it wasn't just like family. It was much better. Happy Belmont and Go Celtics!!!

Does anyone have twenty grand I can borrow???

2008-06-04T07:34:00.006-04:00

My Broadluxe is being auctioned on the 21st. I need a couple of these condos. And a parking space.

Oh wait, I found one. It's only $80,000.00, but it's at 80 Broad Street and the Broadluxe is at 105. God, I just love saying Broadluxe. Broadluxe, Broadluxe, Broadluxe! At least the parking space comes with a valet. Excellent...The valet can give me a ride home in my own car and then go and park it.

If someone happens to have a cashiers check for twenty thousand that they don't need...I'd really appreciate it. Of course, that's just to bid. If I get one I'll be needing just a wee bit more.

Rosanella, Rosanella, Rosanella...

2008-06-01T00:00:00.001-04:00

Seeing Chuck Myra and Walter Powers again in Bass Rocks reminded me of when I first met them. They were playing in Marc Thor's band, The Marc Thor Band. He's the one wearing the denim jacket in the pic. For the life of me I can't remember who played guitar. Was it Ian Blast?

Along with the Humans, Girls, Lou Miami and the Kozmetix, La Peste, Neighborhoods and Unnatural Axe, Marc Thor was in my regular rotation. Yes, you're right, I rarely had a night off. As a general rule, only Tuesdays were spent at home. Marc was an amazing performer and songwriter. He wrote, sometimes with Nola Rezzo, sang and played piano. (There were some truly epic Thor-based parties at Nola's studio adjacent to the late Charles Street Jail, with the scent of Buzzy's Fabulous Roast Beef always heavy in the air.) Last I heard, Marc was composing symphonies.

Oh the songs! Circling LA is on the live Rat album. There's a 45 with Love Sucks and Trak, a song inspired by Burroughs, and there was a red flexi disc in a coloring book of gig posters that had Rosanella and Mother Isn't Right on it. Rosanella was my favorite of all his songs.

Sixteen years ago I got a new kitten and couldn't decide on a name. I wanted something with Rose in it as a way of honoring a very cool Franciscan that I loved whose drag name happened to be Rose. The kitten had been born the first week of May but the crazy cat lady I got her from couldn't remember the exact day, so I decided to celebrate her birthday every year on Derby Day which always falls on the first Saturday in May for those of you who have not been paying attention. Run for the Roses, another sign that she needed a rosy name. So, remembering Marc's song, Rosanella it was. I never realized until much later that the song was based on a bizarre Fairy Tale. God, she used to love it when I sang that song to her.

Photographs by David Henry

2008-05-31T01:25:00.003-04:00

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

Too shy today...

2008-05-30T01:08:00.012-04:00

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

I'd be happy to be Jackie...

2008-05-26T09:55:00.003-04:00

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

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

2008-05-25T08:09:00.003-04:00

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?

"You'll Pay For This!"

2008-05-23T02:15:00.017-04:00

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?

In My Spanish Hacienda...

2008-05-19T15:30:00.004-04:00

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.

"Fucking Kilslug...Maaaannnnn!"

2008-05-18T07:06:00.012-04:00

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.

Preakness Day

2008-05-17T05:02:00.007-04:00

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.

Stranglehold video unearthed!

2008-05-16T09:26:00.005-04:00

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

2008-05-16T00:50:00.002-04:00

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.

Broadluxe

2008-05-15T01:11:00.003-04:00

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...

Crashing at The House of Pain

2008-05-11T08:56:00.004-04:00

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.

STRANGLEHOLD

2008-05-09T08:35:00.048-04:00

"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."