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Saturday, March 08, 2008 ( 3/08/2008 03:06:00 PM ) Bill S. ME BEING A QUIBBLING DICK: So I'm reading a John Grisham novel in the tub, 2002's The Summons, and I come upon a scene where an obnoxious rich guy is attempting to buy his way into society by putting on a benefit dance featuring the "Motown rhythms of the Drifters." Waitaminute, I think: the Drifters weren't Motown; they predate that label and were part of the early crop of r-&-b greats showcased in the late fifties/early sixties on Atlantic Records. Though a few of their later beach music tracks ("Come On Over to My Place," f'rinstance) play with a Motowny sound, the bulk of their best-known hits - "Save the Last Dance for Me," "Under the Boardwalk," "Up on the Roof" - favored more Latinate rhythms. I swear that one flub has ruined the whole novel for me . . . # | Thursday, March 06, 2008 ( 3/06/2008 07:30:00 AM ) Bill S. A LITTLE BIT OF THAT ASTAIRE & ROGERS MAGIC: Don't know if it was the flu or a bad slice of California Pizza, but this weekend yours truly was hit with a debilitating bout of gastrointestinal hijinx that opened with an intense round of emetic activity outside the Essence of Tranquility mineral baths on Saturday night and culminated in a Sunday spent either in bed or in the bathroom. It's been several years since I'd experienced the joys of dry heaving. Spent much of the work week to date feeling less-than-par, so last night, to cheer myself up, I decided to watch one of the set of Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers flicks that I'd DVR-ed on New Year's Eve (courtesy of Turner Classic Movies, of course). Nothing lighter on the stomach than an old RKO musical, right? Except, the one I selected, Carefree, contained a sequence that I wasn't expecting. In the flick, psychiatrist Astaire is attempting to make patient Rogers dream so he can analyze the dreams' subconscious messages. To accomplish this, he gets her and her companions (including ol' reliable romantic foil Ralph Bellamy) to devour a dinner composed of appalling food (lobster with gobs of mayonnaise, a Welsh rarebit, etc.) to stimulate some Windsor McCay-esque dreamery. Watching that scene - and the moment where Bellamy's beau dashes out of the room - I definitely started getting the cold shivers. Sometimes, even a lighthearted 30's musical can smack ya unexpectedly . . . # | Wednesday, March 05, 2008 ( 3/05/2008 07:24:00 AM ) Bill S. MID-WEEK MUSIC VID: Let's go back to the seventies for a live version of Arthur Lee & Love's classic "Along Again Or." All these years, and I still love this song. # | Tuesday, March 04, 2008 ( 3/04/2008 07:02:00 AM ) Bill S. ME IN PRINT: Because the folks at Fantagraphics apparently don't have my address change in their records (could've sworn I sent it to 'em, but, then again, maybe I didn't), I just received the year-end issue of The Comics Journal (#288), forwarded to me with $2.47 postage due. Was surprised and amused to see a "Bullets" review by me of the second collected volume of Kochalka's American Elf strips buried in the mag - surprised because I'd forgotten I'd even written the thing. I need to kick my ass and get the two reviews of material sent to me before our big move written . . . # | ( 3/04/2008 06:25:00 AM ) Bill S. RANDOM POLITICAL QUERY: So have any of the poli-blogs gotten bunched up over last night's Medium featuring Gregory Itzin as a John McCain-esque Arizona Senator who did the South American rugby team thing while a starving p.o.w. in Viet Nam? Or does that show fly so under the radar that none of the regular umbrage takers even noticed? # | Monday, March 03, 2008 ( 3/03/2008 08:58:00 AM ) Bill S.  "LOOKS LIKE WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A HIPSTER OVERSPILL." To those who believe that rock 'n' roll is best when it's rude 'n' raucous, the Fleshtones are Roman Gods. A fixture on the NYC club scene for over three decades (check out their live performance on the IRS punk/new wave concert flick, URGH: A MUSIC WAR), the self-described jet-setters have just released yet another set of sweaty odes to beer, short skirts and perpetual immaturity. Somewhere in a Dionysian afterlife, the late Senator Bluto Blutarsky is surely stoopidly grinning.Longtime fans'll already know what to expect: stings of Seeds-y guitar riffs, great gobs of harmonica moaning, moaning vocals from a seemingly soused Peter Zaremba, cheesy keyboard pumping, plus rock-'em-sock-'em basswork from onetime Nashville Scorcher Ken Fox. You either dig this retro sound or find it annoyingly stunted, but if the idea of a song that lyrically calls back to the Kingsmen's "Annie Fannie" tickles your fancy, then you've probably already pulled out your church key and started guzzling. The rest of you would-be cool folk, as Zaremba observes in "Love Yourself," can just go back to moping and feeling sorry for your sorry-ass selves. "I'm the same as I always was," the boys chant in guitarist Keith Streng's aptly titled buzzathon "Never Grew Up" - and more power to 'em. Thus, the gang sings about the joys of quaffing a brew on the boardwalk ("Ruby's Olde Time") and grunting on the club floor (check out the Isley-esque opener to "Jet-Set Fleshtones"), occasionally stopping to offer a danceable self-help homily like "There's no greater wealth than your mental health." The raucousness even extends to New Orleans Huey Smith & the Clowns-styled r-&-b (Fox's "New York City"), a prerequisite on every good sixties era frat rock platter. Elsewhere, the boys verge on the cheerfully poppy with "This Time, Josephine" and sing about getting an "edumacation" in "Back to School," which could've served as the theme to the Rodney Dangerfield comedy (wherein the great man, lest we forget, sang his own version of "Twist And Shout"). If it all sounds like you've heard it all before, well, you probably have. After more than twenty releases, the 'tones aren't gonna monkey with their greasy "super rock" sound. The whole shmear climaxes with Look's title track, with the group challenging its audience to cast off all pretensions and simply dig the sound of fuzz and frug. By the time Zaremba starts shrieking into the mic like the Cramps' Lux Interior (the two bands once shared rehearsal space back in the early days), you've learned all you need to know about the glories of non-ironic, smartly primitive rock 'n' roll. # | |
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