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Tuesday, April 07, 2009 ( 4/07/2009 04:10:00 PM ) Bill S. A SIGN OF THE TIMES: Went to a luncheon for the area's coalition to prevent child abuse this afternoon. The typically well-attended (free lunch, after all) affair was down in attendance by about fifty bodies, a third of its usual attendance. A reflection of the way that child welfare agencies and staff levels have shrunk in Arizona over the past three months -- looked kinda sad. # | Monday, April 06, 2009 ( 4/06/2009 09:53:00 AM ) Bill S.  "I'M EVOLVED . . . BUT SENTIMENTAL" From its full title, you readily get the impression that Philip K. Dick's Dr. Bloodmoney Or How We Got Along After the Bomb is a rollicking dark comedy in the manner of Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove. The book was written in 1963, a year before that classic Cold War satire was released, but its title wasn't affixed to the book until after the movie was a hit -- at the advice of Ace Paperbacks editor Donald A. Wolheim. It's doubtful that this ploy did much for the Bloodmoney's sales, as Ace's cheap paperbacks weren't much known beyond its core readership of hard-wired sci-fi geeks back in 1965. Too, Dick was too honest a writer to indulge in the kind of crowd-pleasing broadswipe caricaturing that characterized Strangelove.Bloodmoney was reissued last year as part of the Library of America's hardbound collection of five Dick novels of the 1960s and '70s (the other four titles: Martian Time-Slip; Now Wait for Last Year; Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said and A Scanner Darkly). The book provides a solid reflection of the writer's focus and voice during the sixties; as with Time-Slip, it centers on a community of people struggling to survive in a harsh world where even their most hard-held beliefs are up for grabs. In this case, as the title indicates, it's the post-nuclear apocalypse. Set in Berkeley and Marin County during the eighties, after a nuclear accident in 1972 resulted in an outbreak of human and mutations, the book opens prior to the even more devastating holocaust that will change everything. We meet many of the book's main characters prior to the change. Among these are black television salesman Stuart McConchie, psychiatrist Dr. Stockwell, unhappy housewife Bonny Keller (one of Dick's chronically unsatisfied women), astronaut Walt Dangerfield, mentally ill former physicist Bruno Bluthgeld and thalidomide victim Hoppy Harrington. Bluthgeld is the Dr. Bloodmoney of the title. It's his supervision of high altitude bomb testing that led to the Catastrophe of 1972, and guilt for this has driven him mad. When full-blown nuclear war breaks out in the eighties, Bluthgeld holds himself responsible for that, too. Whether he's delusional and engaging in magical thinking -- or indeed truly has the ability to create an actual devastating nuclear event -- is never clearly resolved in the book. One character who clearly does possess hyper-normal powers is the phocomelus Harrington. Born without the use of his hands or feet, Hoppy has developed telekinetic abilities to compensate for his thalidomide created body malformations. When we meet him, he's working as a repairman for Modern TV, but after the nuclear devastation, his powers push him to the front of the small Marin County farm community that he makes his home. Trapped in a basement in the immediate aftermath of the nuclear strike, he immediately plans to take over his own small patch of California: "It would all be small towns and individuals," he thinks, "like Ayn Rand talked about in her books." If Bloodmoney has any clear villain, it's the sociopathic Harrington, who presides over his isolated community like little Anthony in Jerome Bixby's classic s-f horror story, "It's A Good Life." The preponderance of human and animal mutations in the post-Bomb world suits him. "In a way, there are no freaks, no abnormalities," he notes, though he still holds onto memories of the days when he was subjected to stares and mistreatment by "normal" folk. One of the book's other mutants, the unborn twin son of Bonny Keller, takes advantage of Hoppy's traumatic recollections in the book's genuinely creepy showdown. Among the average folk, the most central to the worldwide community proves to be astronaut Dangerfield, who went into space with his wife and is stranded in satellite orbit around the Earth after the war. Broadcasting music and readings of Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage to folks back on Earth after his wife's suicide, Dangerfield is the survivors' primary connection to a world they once knew. When the astronaut/deejay begins experiencing heart palpitations that may or may not be psychosomatic, psychiatrist Stockwell attempts to treat him via radio contact. Much of Dick's novel concerns itself with the very human need to reassert normalcy in the face of overwhelming catastrophe and the attempts of people to either build upon or deny the very changes that have gone on around 'em. A merciless, yet sympathetic observer of human flaws and occasional sparks of heroism, Dick shows both the positive and negative aspects of this drive. Stuart McConchie proves a good vehicle for this: even after the holocaust, he continues to tirelessly work as a salesman, shifting from now useless televisions to Hardy Homeostatic rat traps. His indomitable huckerism is appreciated by more one potential customer. "He is still planning, cogitating, bullshitting," one notes admiringly. At the same time, as a black male, Stuart remains subject to the racist suppositions of his white neighbors. The war, we learn, has even added an additional nasty fillip to this brand of bigotry as radiation burn victims are called "war darkies." The more things change, etc. As with other Dick s-f novels from the sixties, there's always a moment that evokes the period in which it was written and cements the no-longer-prophetic story as an alternate take on a future that we thankfully missed. In Bloodmoney, it's a scene early in the book where a small crowd collects in front of Modern TV to watch a "large stereo color TV set" to watch the space launch of Walt Dangerfield and his wife. Reading that scene, you can visualize the loitering extras in their suits and fedoras, their dresses and heels. It's the kind of well-picked mundane detail that helps to ground Dick even through his most freewheeling paranoid science fantasies -- and also adds to this disturbing and surprising evocation of Cold War nuclear anxiety. Labels: classic sci-fi # |Sunday, April 05, 2009 ( 4/05/2009 10:53:00 PM ) Bill S. "THE LINE FORMS ON THE RIGHT, BABE!" Spent the evening watching Kevin Spacey's Bobby Darin bioflick, Beyond the Sea: an odd, not wholly satisfying exercise that couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be Yankee Doodle Dandy or All That Jazz -- or perhaps Anthony Newley's sixties era ego trip Can Hieronymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? Spacey's flick had some fun musical dance numbers, but how come we never got to see his Darin doing the Top Ten folk hit, "If I Were A Carpenter"? # | ( 4/05/2009 07:41:00 AM ) Bill S. WEEKEND PET PIC: It's a Kyan Pup head shot, an apt image for a lazy Sunday a.m.  THE USUAL NOTE: For more cool pics of companion animals, please check out Modulator's "Friday Ark." # | ( 4/05/2009 07:24:00 AM ) Bill S. TWEETY: Signed up for the Twitter thing this weekend. So now I can be more easily misquoted in the press. # | Saturday, April 04, 2009 ( 4/04/2009 11:26:00 AM ) Bill S.  "WAKEY WAKEY WAKEY, LITTLE SLEEPER!" With Psonic Psunspot, the Dukes of the Stratosphear's full-length follow-up to 25 O'clock, the masquerading members of XTC broadened their swipes. Where the first EP primarily looked to British psychedelic nuggets for its influence, Psunspot crossed the ocean to perform the same affectionate pillaging from American artists, including winking refs to bands like the Byrds, Quicksilver Messenger Service, even the Theremin-drenched Beach Boys. The results, but for a frivolous series of whimsical spoken interludes performed by the studio manager's daughter, proved less broadly spoofish than 25 O'clock.The adjustment in attitude is readily apparent from the first track, Colin Moulding's "Vanishing Girl," which takes from the Hollies circa "Dear Eloise" or "Jennifer Eccles," and holds until the luminous finale, "Pale and Precious," Andy Partridge's tribute to Brian Wilson and the TM Boys. Colin triples his contributions to this set ("Girl," "Shiny Cage" and "The Affiliated"), though his presence is also felt more strongly on the disc's other tracks, too. With 25 O'clock, you get the impression at times that the rest of the band was invited late to Andy's party. Here, listening to Colin's nimble basswork on the "Eight Miles High"-influenced "You're My Drug," for instance, his involvement in the Dukes sounds much more substantial. Moulding's "The Affiliated," his third compositional contribution to the disc, leans toward a world that he'd explore further in XTC's Apple Venus discs ("Frivolous Tonight"). In fact, where all six core cuts of the Dukes' debut rested on the listener's knowledge of sixties studio excess for a full appreciation, many of the follow-up's selections could have easily been put on a straight-faced XTC disc without too much tweaking. Partridge's McCartney-esque "Brainiac's Daughter" could've been a companion piece to Skylarking's "That's Really Super, Supergirl," right down to the lyrics' Silver Age comic book refs, while "Pale and Precious" anticipates Oranges and Lemons' equally SoCal-inflected "Chalkhills and Children." But for its palpable "I'm Only Sleeping" nick, "Shiny Cage" could've easily fit among the songwriter's other observations of working class not-so-quiet desperation. At times, in fact, you can't wishing that the XTCers had held some of these tracks for their next elpee where they might have gotten more serious critical attention. Still, the disc's few acid-y japes remain enjoyable: bad trip reconstruction "Collideascope" (dig that Turtles "Sound Asleep" sawing in the middle) and the gloriously dopey, San Fran-influenced "Little Lighthouse" remain personal faves. To these ears, the only track that works more as a concept than an actual song is the gender bending "Have You Seen, Jackie?" Maybe it's the insertion of that irritating little girl's voice in the middle of the song. Ape House's new reissue of the disc contains six demo versions of songs from the disc (no unfamiliar songs on this 'un). The mnost intriguing demo proves to be Moulding's "No One at Home," an early version of "Vanishing Girl" with less mysterious lyrics in its chorus. I miss Dave Gregory's sparkle-icious guitar work on the finalized "Girl," though. To fans who already own Psunspot from its CD release as a part of the Chips from the Chocolate Fireball set, Ape House's new release may not have the advantage of less familiar extras to pull in the hard-core collectors. But for latecomers just coming into this criminally underappreciated art-pop band, this set might be the one to select. Where the original "Dukes" releases (including the Chocolate Fireball CD) contained no acknowledgment of the group's "true" identity, Ape House's two reissues plaster "XTC as The Dukes of Stratosphear" on both the cover and CD label. Rather like the moment Stephen King had his "Richard Bachman" books reissued with his real name splayed on the cover. Yanking the (red) curtain aside brought an audience to those obscure early works that would otherwise have missed 'em. Perhaps Andy is hoping that something similar will occur for the Dukes' oeuvre. If so, that alone justifies both discs' re-release. Labels: psychedelia # |Friday, April 03, 2009 ( 4/03/2009 03:59:00 PM ) Bill S.  "I'M THE BAD THOUGHTS INSIDE YOUR HEAD." In the history of rock oddities, the spectacle of an established group taking on a pseudonym to record material in tribute to the music that initially inspired 'em has become an established ploy. The Mothers of Invention did it for doo-wop back in 1968 with Cruising with Ruben & the Jets, while in 1984, British art-poppers XTC donned the moniker Dukes of the Stratosphear to do something similar to psychedelia. The results of this masquerade produced two enjoyable pastiches, the EP 25 O'clock and full-length long-player Psonic Psunspot. Together, both discs were originally released together in the U.S. on CD by Geffen as Chips from the Chocolate Fireball (An Anthology), though expanded and remastered versions of both titles are now being reissued separately on XTC mastermind Andy Partridge's Ape House label.Are they worth getting if you already own a copy of Fireball? Depends on how avid a fan you are of this quirky band of studio obsessives. Of the two releases, Dukes debut 25 O'clock is the one with the most extras, which makes sense since the original platter was around the length of the original Magical Mystery Tour EP. Six demos (two of songs not included on the original release) and three additional recordings The six core tracks remain top-notch psychedelic pspoofs: five were penned by Partridge under the pseudonym Sir John John, while the sixth came from the less prolific bassist Colin Moulding (a.k.a. The Red Curtain), playing Harrison to Partridge's Lennon/McCartney with a Zager & Evans-ish prophecy of dire futures entitled "What in the World??…" In the doomy title opener, Partridge melds Electric Prunes' "I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night" to Pink Floyd, while "Bike Ride to the Moon" hints at a greater Britbeat obscurity, Tomorrow's "My White Bicycle." The obligatory hallucinogenic love song, "Your Gold Dress," hints at the Stones' "She's Like A Rainbow" right down to Dave Gregory's Nicky Hopkins-influenced piano fingerings. Final EP track, "Mole," pulls out the woozy stringwork and backwards tape sounds so intrinsic to the original Mystery Tour -- all in service to an obscure psychic pspy (okay, I'll stop) story. As for the less familiar material, the high points are "Can" and "Tin Toy Clockwork Train." The former takes Partridge's trademark skepticism re: humanity (see "Poor Skeleton Steps Out" and "Scarecrow People") and wraps it up with a bracingly moddish Who-styled rave-up. The latter is a Not-So-Big-Express lark with toy train whistles and a lotta laughing embellishing a typically bouncy XTC-styled beat. If some of this gets admittedly cartoonish, the songs still stand strongly by themselves: as demo versions of "25 O'clock," "Bike Ride," "My Love Explodes," and "World?…" all demonstrate. "My Love Explodes" adds to the catalog of great ejaculation songs (neat Easterny guitar riffs on this 'un), though the insertion of a nerdy Woody Allen-y rant about the song's "filthy" subject matter at the end grows old on replays. With their follow-up album, Psunspot, the boys would tamp down the studio goofing, but unfortunately add more spoken interstices. XTC's love for psychedelic nuggetry would ultimately lead to one of their strongest albums, the Todd Rundgren-produced song cycle Skylarking, though few at the time of 25 O'clock's release would have likely predicted the gorgeous village greenery still ahead -- or the evanescent pale and precious sounds that the "Dukes" themselves would create for their Psonic elpee two years later. UPDATE/CORRECTION: Though the two promo discs I received from Ape House promised that the final releases would contain the videos originally shot to promote each release, I've since learned that this is not to be. Labels: psychedelia # |Thursday, April 02, 2009 ( 4/02/2009 07:11:00 AM ) Bill S. "AT THE END OF MY RAINBOW IS A GOLDEN OLDIE." Watching the series finale to the cut-short Life on Mars last night, I found myself thinking during its ham-fistedly literal-minded Major Tom daddy issues sci-fi conclusion, "Good thing this show didn't last for more than one season – 'coz I'd be really pissed if I'd kept following it and it all still led to this!" (A Martian gene hunt? Really?) Still, Michael Imperioli in a spaceman's suit was worth a chuckle, if only for its sheer preposterousness. # | Wednesday, April 01, 2009 ( 4/01/2009 02:51:00 PM ) Bill S. 'THEY'RE THE BEST IN HARMONY." Here's an old film clip of the great Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five, doing one of their biggest hits. Man, I love this stuff. # | |
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