Not that I didn't let my ill feeling go to waste...using the same theory as Ron Carter playing cello whilst deathly sick and coming up with a style of wonder I actually wrote last Wednesday's book review post on Sunday morning, beginning the project a good six or so hours after taking my final system mismanagement with the hope that maybe I could ooze something of worth out of all the pain and suffering I had to endure. Not being a good judge of my own work (to me it's either all worthy or all disposable) I don't know if I've quite succeeded. Nature tends to say I have, but ultimately you're going to decide.
The strangest thing about it all is that, surprisingly enough, I predicted my own travails in a backhanded way in last week's review of the Smegma/Wolf Eyes album! Really! Go back and read it for yourself and tell me that I'm even more amazing than Kreskin!
You can gather that, with the post-barf flu symptoms continuing to linger on I haven't exactly been a social butt fly these past few days. Most of my evening free time has been taken up by reading familiar old faves for the n-teenth time (the "Mumbles" segment of the latest DICK TRACY volume having great spiritual as well as physical healing powers) while a few new-to-grace-my-ears spinners have appeared on the sets which I will of course document for all history below. Other'n that, not much is flibbin' my jib as of this time (don't even have the energy to watch those MIKE HAMMER DVDs I've been eyeing for the last few months) BUT (I'm tellin' ya this for the sake of confrontation, controversy, discourse and obviously to pad this post out a li'l) I did manage to catch one rather horrid item on youtube that was so disturbing it shocked my outta my slumber last night worse'n a Jolt Cola jag that I just hadda tell ya about it! Couldn't get back to sleep either since the thing was so horrifying not only in its overall grotesqueness but due to the historical inaccuracies that were being lobbed out faster than anyone outside of Speedy Gonzaga would have the chance to refute 'em, and although I've encountered many a bad piece of quickie agitprop in my born days this particular screech-o-rama was so strange and absurd on all levels I'm surprised anybody could get away with its presentation as having anything remotely to do with facts historical or otherwise!
Y'see, somebody out there in youtubeland did a series of videos using those great old-style grinning ventriloquist dummy heads (slightly reminiscent of the dummies who used to occupy the pot-bellied stove on THE SOUPY SALES SHOW...Reba was one of 'em hence the once-popular catch-phrase "Cool It, Reba!") that sure looked interesting enough even if the main thrust of these videos was to ridicule a wide range of radikally reaktionary ideals along the lines of the tea party movement, female republicans, and who could forget that all-time bugaboo traditional marriage! And yeah, such subject matter's most def. on the table just like everything else these days but with the rapid fire distorto-cliches being lobbed directly atcha these vids not only wallow in their elitist comfy-caring smugness you see from blowhards all over but worse yet are filled with twisto-changeo historical demi-truths and downright inaccuracies (which, despite the levity of using dummy heads have that always-nauseating moral oneupmanship air of smug superiority in typical "We know the true meaning of life and you don't so shut up!" fashion) that it's no wonder people have a grasp on where we've been and where we're going like they do these days with falsehoods being presented as bonafeed truths!
Naturally every side of the political spectrum (all ten of 'em!) pumps out this kinda slap 'n sashay poopaganda and when it gets higher up on the already high horse you know you're in for a preaching that's bound to give you the runs. But after all of the tracts and home-style animation and whatnot I've viewed o'er the years this puppetmaster's work had a particularly irksome reaction, reminding me of the mix of condescension and hatred that a whole load of WASP-y types and other wannabe higher ups on the evolution scale had and in many ways continue to have for ethno-peons such as myself. Kinda thought the part where the KKK-hooded dummies, in a segment dated 1913 for some strange reason (the Klan didn't revive until at least a good three/four years later which should give you an idea of the historical accuracy of these "shorts") are portrayed to be rallying against Woodrow Wilson to be pretty disturbing, since for all practical purposes Wilson was a firm Klan supporter and certainly no friend of blacks! Of course the segment ridiculing the Southern cause during the Civil War also earns points for rose-colored 150-year hindsight, especially since Lincoln really didn't care one whit about freeing slaves and merely wanted to keep the country together at any cost (and frankly, Lincoln's opinions regarding black people made Jefferson Davis' look utterly saintly, not to mention Mark Twain's, he being a guy who's getting racked over the coals for racism as we speak)! Really bad analysis*, especially when after all's said and uploaded it's all nothing but snobbishly slanted PBS-endorsed history filtered through a starry-eyed pseudo-Marxism (or at least rabid Washington stranglehold on every aspect of life, which is of course evil unless those enlightened demi-Mussolinis are the ones calling the shots!) coupled with idiotic patronization presented to you via ventriloquist dummy heads! Big Brother agit prop goes Saturday morning...if the progressive vanguard keep putting up these videos I might just start liking the Tea Party out of spite if anything!
And to think that this was recommended to me because I tuned into a Knucklehead Smif clip from the late-fifties PAUL WINCHELL SHOW!
***ANOTHER CEE-DEE-ARE THAT PAUL McGARRY BURNED FOR ME BUT I DIDN'T GET TO SPIN UNTIL YESTERDAY-Television-LIVE AT THE OLD WALDORF SAN FRANCISCO 6/29/78- Here's what McGarry sez on the back sleeve..."New York art fags that do their thing on the West Coast! I can dig it!" Now here's what """""I""""" sez...even the lack of practice, general worn-outness and obvious goof ups can't hurt much, though if you didn't do a little wincing like I did during "Venus" maybe you were outta the room 'r sumpin'!
***MORE STRANGE DREAMS I'VE BEEN HAVING (well, they do fill up the space on these posts rather pleasantly at that plus Brad Kohler likes 'em ever since he bought that Freudian Analysis of Dreams tome!) DEPARTMENT: Still having the weirdie dreams, some (like the one where I'm taking a high school class in the basement of my home and the test being given by my old Spanish teacher is filled with two pages of totally non sequiter'd multiple choice and fill in the blank questions and I only have ten minutes to figure out what it's all about!) not really worth the bother to detail for history's sake, but two of 'em are doozy enough to relay to you in their entirety! Dream #1- on a warm sunny day my father and I travel to a typical small and ancient-looking farm to perhaps purchase some antiques we can turn a buck on. However, some farmer who looks and sounds remarkably like Denver Pyle barges from his barn and tells us to get out in no uncertain terms! He's obviously extremely angry at us and I have no idea as to why he is provoked the way he is, but without any warning the guy "sics" on us this weird machine that looks like the top of a gas barbeque grill but has rotating blades/wheels (like an earth tiller or snow thrower) which not only propel it but chops up everything in its path! The machine is rather swift, and although it's sure making quite a racket as it chops up debris in its way both my father and I find it easy enough to swerve and sway around on the trek back to our van. However, this infernal machine can shred logs and other matter like nothing which is something it could also do to our legs if we don't get outta there asap, but anyway both dad and myself manage to dodge the machine on its treacherous mission and without much effort at that.
Amidst this rather strange pattern of events I decided to have some fun with this automated monstrosity after seeing a kitten...I run swiftly in front of the li'l pillow scratcher then get out of the way so's the cat would get chopped up in the machine! It does (kitten leaving this world with a sharp meow!) while my father gives me this pained expression on his face, like "how could I do such a thing!" Of course I'm taking this all in stride, cat puree or not. We finally make it back to our van, but not before seeing what looks like the cat's mother and another kitten runnin' around doing the meow bit which I guess sorta assuages my so-called shame in the matter, like perhaps the little one was the first cat I saw and the pitiful thing actually survived the ordeal!
SECOND DREAM! MY folks are doing an outdoor antique show in what's supposed to be DISNEYLAND but looks more like any rundown theme park that has been very lax on the upkeep since 1957. Even with all of the work that has to be done setting up and selling items, I tell 'em that I'm going to instead spend the day at this decidedly non-Disneyesque-looking locale (which has more of an air of an industrial park than an amusement park!) with none other than EDDIE FLOWERS and some of his pals whom I don't recognize from anywhere. I assume they're more of his Crawlspace kith 'n kin for obvious reasons, but although I feel guilty about letting the folks do their setup w/o my immediate assistance (they don't seem to mind) I go off on some movable shuttle-type system with Mr. Flowers and his associates (did I tell you this was all taking place on a rather hot, humid overcast day?) when one of Flowers' cronies looks at a row of rusted poles that look like power lines or an unsafe ski-lift and remarks that it was the Matterhorn, a ride we were all going to get on within a few minutes! Soon after we are off and crossing what are supposed to be tracks for that infamous in-mountain ride but looked more like old trolley rails that have been paved over throughout the years. Suddenly, I am without my compats while sitting in an area waiting to get on the ride, during which time I win a prize (a tray of assorted cheeses that looked more like fancy pastry all covered in saran) for a Valentine's Day drawing I didn't even make. The rest of the dream had to do with my confusion at what was happening around me...
***As you can see below, not too many new and fresh enough items to review in the age of pixels (maybe there will be in the next great age of information breakthrough!), though that doesn't exactly mean I've been taking a sabbatical from the realm of recorded horcha! A lotta long and forgottens have found themselves planted on my laser launch pad as of late, mostly things that really don't warrant any full-time writeups due to the sake of repetition, not to mention that I still feel sicker'n ever, but perhaps they should be brought up in the annals of BLOG TO COMMunism just to set the record straight. Take the Cecil Taylor Unit's SPRING OF TWO BLUE J'S on the Jazz View label, one of those euro budget Cee-Dee releases that somehow made it to the mailorder catalogs of the US of Wha? back in the nineties. Great set recorded live in New York, one track Taylor solo and the other with longtime sidekick Jimmy Lyons, avant bassist supreme Sirone and Andrew Cyrille on drums. No liner notes or any special packaging here, but the music sure speaks reams of high energy, intense free soundscapading! The early Art Ensemble of Chicago spinners also seem to be taking up an inordinate amt. of airplay, but can I help it if their primal style and swerve continues to affect me lo these many years later? Gotta do some research...I think there are a few of their Parisian platters that have eluded my grasps even this late in the game o' life, and I'd sure like to hear 'em sometime before I head off towards my just rewards, mainly a retirement village in the tri-state area that's passed the surprise state inspection drill.
***And now the moment you've been waiting for...
These guys hit the stage of CBGB around the same time Steve Forbert did which would figure, since both of 'em trekked up to New York City from Meridian Mississippi around the same time and in fact were pretty pall-sy with each other t'boot. Of course Forbert made it big while the Cryers just wallowed around making this album and perhaps yet another that kinda got those few good reviews out there and went poof. 's actually not as horrid as one might think; I'm sure MANY of the third-rung groups playing the clubs at the time sounded like this, but it can get into sap drive when one's least expecting it. Good in small doses, and this one when used properly can last a pretty loooong time.
The success of Cohran's 7-inch 45 rpm box set had me swinging through the Forced Exposure website looking for more wonders from this obviously overlooked Chicago practitioner of the avant garde jazz style. Since this also features the guitar of one Pete Cosey (of various Miles Davis free-scronk adventures) I figured the property value would double and for once I'm right! No, Cosey does not get into his famed atonal histrionics and settles back for some traditional jazz strumming here, but the entire procedure's still a must to absorb from Cohran's tres-Ra big band stylings to the devotion to well-honed fifties jazz/blues forms all aided and abetted by his extraterrestrial "Frankiphone" playing. Snobs will poo-poo it for the lack of total free-blast so akin to the various Chicago/AACM big guns but if you're one of those who like to snuggle up to some of the pre-Ornette moves in the new jazz thing this'll be like old folks at home week for you.
Funny how I missed out on this recording of the seven-piece Rounders recorded live on WLIR-FM Long Island when it finally got released...back in 2004! But whatever the situation it's good that I got to hear this 'un now than never at all. Despite the typical gaffe-prone FM sound this 'un's documented proof that the Rounders were always a pretty accurate all around group dabbling in the likes of not only gonz folk but blues, rock (with and without the roll) and even a li'l jazz with none of that early-seventies Marin County "relevance" seeping into the Lower East Side sleaze of it all. There's a nice New York lilt to it that doesn't rub you the wrong way like most of the hippiedom of the era tended to do, and if you don't think their version of "Smokey Joe's Cafe" coulda stood up against a whole lotta mid-seventies New York rock stylings you are sadly mistaken! Somebody ought to release that Unholy Modal Rounders WBAI-FM broadcast from a good four or so years later which featured ex-Leather Secrets warbler and Robert Mapplethorpe haberdasher Camille O'Grady on lead vocals!
*But really, it is strange (yet totally expected) for anybody to seriously think that the Tea Party's roots are in the likes of the KKK considering how the Klan, or at least that of the 20th Century variety, were dipping heavily into the same "making the world safe for Northern Euros" eugenics font as just about every other progressive out there (read: the people who made these videos) who was pining away for a better, more Calvinist world. In fact, some of these eugenicists who sat on the Supreme Court (Oliver Wendell Holmes' grave really should be desecrated for him coming up with that "three generations of idiots is enough" line!) who pretty much supported their efforts at least in spirit, and what's the difference between a university-educated man of letters and a backwoods county sheriff if they both condone throwing retarded people into gas chambers! Now, I could trace the Tea Party movement perhaps back to the Goldwater campaign of '64 or maybe the early-nineties Buchananites who were so loathed by their own party members, but if I had to link the Klan with anybody around in today's political clime it would be those survivors of the Birth Control League who always seem to be making their pitch to the darker segments of our society while pushing that do-gooder Northern European sense of superiority on all of us! I guess if you do scratch a bleeding heart in the right place his swastika tattoo will eventually show.