Kasabian - Vlad the Impaler

Getting ready for Hallowe'en early with the band the Black keys stole their sound from, KASABIAN with Noel Fielding as Vlad the Impaler

Best New Cool Toy Of The Day

John Peel's ........ record archive: notes, pix, shows, cool nav & Spotify - still growing - go be there virrrrrtually.

Jet Harris R.I.P.

First electric bass in England. Apache. R.I.P. OBIT HERE

Such a Cool post - I'm Nauseous and Reposting Here

Jet Harris was possibly the first person in Britain to own an electric bass guitar, and certainly the first to play one in a band. His original instrument was a Framus Star bass imported by Besson & Co from West Germany.

In September 1963, a chauffeur-driven limousine in which Jet was travelling with his girlfriend Billie Davis, was in collision with a Midland Red bus as they travelled back from one of Billie's shows in Evesham. The bus was written off in the accident and it was almost fatal for Jet too. Billie, who suffered a broken jaw in the accident, pulled the unconscious Jet from the wreckage of their car. He suffered serious head injuries requiring 34 stitches in the wound.

When the court case from the car crash was finally settled, in December 1966, Mr Justice Donaldson recognised that while Jet "was no Beatle and possibly no Cliff Richard, he was nevertheless at the top of his profession". Jet was awarded compensation of £11,150 - not much by today's standards but a not inconsiderable sum in 1966.

Watch the smoke:


Billie again:

Nashville Pussy

NASHVILLE PUSSY

What can I say?
Nuthin.

Oh well- yes I can.

Last year we walked in late to their opening set at that Horton Heat show. We vowed then & there that we'd see 'em again.

Parade magazine will never feature them. Wayne Cochran is your mother compared to them. Wait, Stiv Bators is your mother compared to them.
They will never be lying on their death beds asking themselves "What was that all about?"
Their show is a full-on 100% Screaming Mimi (or screaming Meemie) assault on the very existence of rock n' roll. If they worked in a grocery store, You'd be greeted at the door, every item would be exactly where it belonged with the right prices, the floors would be immaculate and the produce fresh, and you would zoom through checkout. That's how hard they work. Like hard workin' bastards, who are forestalling their executions by playing for the Governor.

The staging is flawless: they look at each other, and blast! things happen right on cue. The drama don't stop. It's intuitive but looks well thought out.

The last song, Ruyter tore the strings off her guitar - when I asked Blaine how she manages to do that, he replied, "Hey she's got great chops."

Amen.

Phonecam doesn't do it justice, obviously, & I lost 2 closeups while talking to band members (forgot to hit save) so I have adulterated, to give an impression. Maybe successful.






Special show treat: Blaine sings Ace of Spades with Reverend Horton Heat



Go.

World Series: No Quarter (For Tampa Bay!)

Tapoles in a jar for every Phillies fan!

World Series: American Idiot Wind

Don't want to be an American idiot.
People see me all the time and they just cant remember how to act
Don't want a nation under the new mania
Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at,
The subliminal mind fuck America.
I couldn't believe after all these years, you didn't know me better than that.

World Series: The West is the Best

Before I-
slip into unconsciousness-
I'd like to have-
another hit.

World Series: Dizzy and Daffy Davies

"P.S. I signed up for next year. Comiskey slapped me on the back when I went in to see him and told me I would be a star next year if I took good care of myself I guess I am a star without waiting for next year Al. My contract calls for twenty-eight hundred a year which is a thousand more than I was getting. And it is pretty near a cinch that I will be in on the World Serious money next season."
-Ring Lardner- You Know Me Al 1914

4,000 Hours of New Meek

Totaling over 4,000 hours of music, they contain previously unheard songs by Billy Fury, Tom Jones and David Bowie's first band, the Konrads, as well as forgotten 60s stars as the Honeycombs, John Leyton and Heinz, all of whom had UK No 1s with Meek.

Hey who wants to hear a new world? One can only hope that some selfish don't-touch-my-records,-man completist jerkoff doesn't get 'em......

But let's do the math:
300,000.00GBP is $534,606.67 ....today
divided by 4000, it's about $133.00 per hour of music or $100.00 per LP's worth of tunes!

So even if it's 2,000 hours of Bowie's drummer farting, production costs to release the releaseable stuff is pretty much zilch.

Via the Guardian
and hey- read my Guardian clippings!

Generic Teen

Smoke In. Sleep In. Bed In. Love In. Be In. Sit In. What could be left?




Teen In 1968 - a weird sort of a rock magazine and comic that featured characters that were of that generic Archie clone look. US manga, huh? But overall intended for chicks. That's right I said it - I said "Chicks". Chicks chicks chicks.

A lot of the regular schtick......(rhymes with chick, no?)



also a romance story that was in B&W - why? Was it to save money? After all the publisher was Tower Comics



There was a story featuring this half-wit proto-Moose....get this, named "Animal" ... I guess the publisher didn't have to pay full rate to the artist if not all the characters had eyes.....



Here's that embiggenable-by-clicking tale:






Dig the cool 1940's onomatopoeia noise drawings - very Alley Oop or Buz Sawyer, dontcha think? Incongruous-ish.









Notice how I didn't de-yellow 'em this time? I felt the warmth helped...

But my favorite parts were the interstitial rock articles featuring prominent musicians of the day.

Like this one about what pisses off the Cowsills (link at pic) especially tragic in the light of such bad ends some of them came to- not very Partridge Family at all...



and the Music Explosion (Lil' Bit O' Soul) with much sartorial descriptiveness:



and...and... "The Girl That I Marry" featuring Jim Morrison - heart throb. Haha... these girls don't know he's a raging drunk with an Oedipus complex!! Just get on the blue bus, Susie and Tammy! The west is the best!

Also I always thought it was "Cream" not "The Cream" I guess I stand corrected!







lastly, Miss Nelson was definitely trying to make sure no one stole this from her - I hope it wasn't her only possession......

It's Jim F@&#ing Lindsey!!!...... 2

My daughter got these cool Andy Griffith cards at Ocean City, NJ, and guess who was in the bunch:
Jim Lindsey!!! Grifter - Star - Homeboy



Also look at these beautiful punims:



I'm gonna perfect doin' the "Goober Pose"




This one - the one I like to call "Zombie Goober" is also a wallpaper! Yay! (it's been a while)

Stones Reference in Today's Born Loser

.....with "person" as a politically correct substitution for "man".

Here's the panel:



Here's the song title as illustrated on an early EP:



and wow! somebody put it on boomp3! cool!:

boomp3.com

Baby's 1st Concert

I've been doing a few guest posts at The Perfect American which to the unintiated, is a roiling vortex of lust for the illness called Rock n' Roll. It's a journey, and for me, it's been kinda liberating, and thanks to Mr. Jyn for asked me to plug in some stuff.

There's a post about Spade Cooley stomping his wife to death, one about Jim Carroll & those who worship and/or study his Basketball Diaries, one about singer Billie Davis, with a broken jaw, pulling Jet Harris from the Shadows out of a wrecked limo and lastly I'll mention the one that led to this post; the one about Dino Valente

Quicksilver Messenger Service was my first concert. It was right after their second album featuring Dino, and it was all we were listening to at the time. Eric Burdon and War opened and my eyeballs almost fell outta my head when I realized that the Boss of the Animals was up there singing "Spill the Wine" It was cooler than anything, and why in hell did my parents let me go?!?!?! But yay!

But Dino - kind of an interesting guy as explained in this exact transcription from my 1st edition of Lillian Roxon's Rock Encyclopedia (1969)

DINO VALENTI (Chester Powers)/Dino Valenti is one of those living legends. He worked in a carnival for seventeen years, was a trapeze artist for three of them, sang around the clubs of Los Angeles for years, but never made a record because he wanted it to be perfect when he did. (The story was that he kept making them, refusing to have them released, dropping them and making more.) He spent nearly a year in jail for possession of amphetamine and sold his rights to his most successful song, Let's Get Together, to get money to get out of jail. It's one of the most recorded songs ever (the song's composer is listed as Chester Powers)—the Youngbloods, Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service have all done it. He also co-wrote Hey Joe. But his album, finally out in 1968, has none of this—just strange, mysterious, intimate songs that sneak up behind you. "An underground Bob Dylan," said critic Ralph Gleason. Well, he has that curly Dylan look anyway. "A five-year-dead Orphan Annie," said Emmet Lake of the East Village Other. Yes, he's a songwriting legend, and a one-year-in-gaol-for-amphetamine legend, and a macrobiotics-solar-energy legend, but mainly he's a ladies' man legend. It was San Francisco radio personality Tom Donahue who said simply: "If every chick Dino's ever known buys the record, it will be number one."
Album/DINO (October 1968): Time; Something New; My Friend; Listen To Me; Me And My Uncle; Tomorrow; Children Of The Sun; New Wind; Everything Is Gonna Be OK; Test.

Now lissen:

boomp3.com


And here's the original program from the show- click to embiggen SOME ARE EVEN GIANTER FOR VIEWING EASE

A Recommendation

Went on my annual pilgrimage to See Reverend Horton Heat last night, who put on a spectacular show as always, with an added "History of Music" that left one feeling as if the price of the ticket was well worth it.

I came to the conclusion that mosh pit people are basically unable to get laid. This is, in effect, moshing's raison d'etre- a sexstitute. They just have that look. A look that says, "I will somehow lack whatever it is you need to be attracted to in order to tryst." How the f*@k do you mosh to "Happy Camper"? Anyway, a bit of advice: when they come for you, lean in.

The real treat, for which, due to scheduling conflicts, we were only able to hear the last three songs of, was what I as of last night, consider to be possibly the greatest rock n' roll band ever: Nashville Pussy.
I felt like I dropped into a Robert Rodriguez film.

They were.......

Van-Tazdick.

Not only was the outrageousness turned up to 11, they were mixed well and tight. Others only hope to rock; Nashville Pussy is the touchstone for rocking. They could be the house band for House of 1001 Corpses, Kill Bill 3, and any other film with guts and elan you can imagine. The stage presence is amazing: stringy-haired trucker-hatted front man with two wild uber babes on guitar and bass, with a drummer that looked like he was ripped directly from the pages of an EC Comic. Here's their wiki, 'cos I still don't know who they are or anything. They're in Washington tonight, NYC tomorrow. GO. They're on first, like who, so get there early and don't make my mistake.

In the middle was Hank III and unfortunately, despite a great fiddler, slide guitar player, and bassist, it fell short - followed by the grandson of Hank Williams playing 45 minutes of non-sequituresque thrashmetalpunkyellingchants as their alter ego, Assjack. The first half's sound could've been at a casino (as my son so aptly put it) and the second half just was like a 200 decibel explanation of the rules of cricket. Don't get me wrong - there was a lot of good about his band, but Nashville Pussy pretty much killed them for me.

I was however mesmerized by two band members: The fiddler, who possessed an expression of such deep-seated glee at playing the fiddle, that I don't think you could find a happier more authentic looking country fiddler in all the picture books of country music in the universe. And the bass player- who provided an unrelenting kaleidoscope of asexually framed hatred, pain, confusion, hurt, indignance, and perverse introversion on his face - he was fascinating, and if I were casting a horror movie, this guy would have a job in about 5 minutes.

This picture doesn't even come close to the experience of him gesticulating wildly with obscene and/or hostile finger positions (like mudras of hate and pain and anger) while screaming profane epithets at the audience at the conclusion of a song....... Genius:



Last: Here's some images- the futility of phonecamming in that type of environment leads one to get all impressionistic as a way of salvaging them - first Nashville Pussy Followed by two Horton Heats:




But - OHHHHH! None are wallpapers - f#@*k it!