Hot damn this is good! Thin Lizzy on fire at the Sydney Harbour in 1978.
2 Bad Reputation
3 Cowboy Song
4 The Boys Are Back In Town
5 Waiting For An Alibi
6 Are You Ready
7 Me And The Boys Were Wondering How You And The Girls Are Getting Home Tonight
8 Baby Drives Me Crazy
Gary Moore joined Thin Lizzy on this tour and Mark Nauseef is subbing for Brian Downey on drums.
One of New York City’s longest standing destinations for lovers of music, the legendary Colony Records, is set to close. Owner Richard Turk gives the usual reasons for its demise: the Internet, high rent and lack of CD sales.
Colony Records was one of the first places I visited when I moved to New York in 1977. This was before Virgin or Tower existed and Colony was an overwhelming experience for a record freak like myself. It was hip without being hipster, cool without being cold. It definitely had a Times Square vibe while still being an oasis in a neighborhood that could be rough and uninviting. The staff was old skool New Yorkers who knew their shit. They might not have looked like the record store employees we’ve grown accustomed to in recent years - no pale-skinned, bearded geeks spewing fan jizz on rare Lee Hazlewood albums - but they had deep knowledge and appreciation for whatever genre they specialized in. They could be gruff but the gruffness was tempered with a sweetness that came from being around objects they loved - rows and rows of vinyl and sheet music.
Webzine Capitol offers a brief history of Colony Records in an article on its closing:
Colony Records was founded in 1948 by Harold “Nappy” Grossbart and Richard Turk’s father, Sidney. The shop’s location and late hours—it stayed open til 3 a.m. seven days a week for decades—made it a popular destination for musicians, theatergoers and celebrities throughout Times Square’s multiple incarnations. Repeat patrons included Benny Goodman, Elvis Presley, Mick Jagger, Elton John, Liza Minnelli, and Michael Jackson, who in his later years took to scheduling after-hours appointments to drop by.”
The closing of Colony, Tower, Virgin and dozens of indie record stores in Manhattan has resulted in a huge void where music fans once gathered to share their passion. Richard Turk’s concern is shared by more than just a few Manhattanites - “where New Yorkers will go to talk about music, now that all the “characters stores” like Colony have gone extinct.”
The following is a rough cut of scenes from Manhattan Lullaby, a documentary about Colony Records directed by Sara Cross. It’s a work in progress that now seems to have found its ending.
Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band (Zoot Horn Rollo, Ed Marimba, Roy Estrada, Rockette Morton and Winged Eel Fingerling) performing at Radio Bremen’s Funkhaus for German TV Beat Club, on April 12, 1972.
Zoot Horn Rollo (Magic Band guitarist Bill Harkleroad) recalls taping the show:
“I’m Gonna Booglarize You” got played an awful lot and was definitely part of our live show. Like “Click Clack” and “Alice In Blunderland,” “Booglarize You” was a staple part of the set on three basic tours - 1971, 1972 and 1973. I can specifically remember the band performing it on a German TV show called Beat Club. Like all TV shows at that time, they weren’t ready for loudly performed music. Our type of music was designed to be played loud, it didn’t have to be earsplitting, but it had to be played with a certain amount of volume just to push enough air to feel the excitement level of it - because we did have energy, no question about it!
I remember how difficult it was, beating the crap out of the instrument and jumping around, when you could hear people whispering over the low volume. ... Back then live TV shows were only one step better than lip-synching. It always felt funny playing to 30-odd people who were clapping politely while the TV producer was trying to make it look like a crowd 500. It was a very sterile environment and of course the Magic Band came over as being totally ‘over-the-top’ with our look - I remember stumbling around on my high heeled green shoes.
You’ll notice that the good Captain has two microphones bound together with tape, in order to amplify his deepest notes.
1. Hair Pie Bass Solo (The Mascara Snake) (0:00)
2. Click Clack Take 1 (3:08)
3. Click Clack Take 2 (6:51)
4. Golden Birdies and Band Intro (8:18)
5. I’m Gonna Booglaraize You Baby Take 1 (11:12)
6. I’m Gonna Booglaraize You Baby Take 2 (15:41)
7. Steal Softly Through Snow (Band Instrumental) (20:49)
8. I’m Gonna Booglaraize You Baby Take 3 (24:18)
For four years, each day I took the same tram to art academy. Why would you then look out the window with curiosity when there is no reason to expect anything new. I decided to change the daily journey for my fellow passengers and myself. I wouldn’t move the tramway track, but maybe I could add something. Make something so that what already exists would look very different now.
Man-eater is part of my graduation project Remake Reality for the Royal Academy of Art, The Netherlands.
Check out more of Daniel’s work here. And if you can come up with any similar game ideas, do let us know.
When Stan Lee visited New York in January 1983, the editorial staff was at the peak of its yuk-yuk, hand-buzzer giddiness. They’d been shooting photos of each other in superhero costumes for some of the covers—several staff members appeared on the cover of the last issue of SPIDER-WOMAN—and now they were putting together a comic that consisted wholly of photos of intra-office hijinks. They wanted to include Stan the Man. Lee, the original ringmaster, jumped at the chance to pose for a nude centerfold. Marvel staffers photographed Lee with an oversize comic book covering his private parts; soon after, they received a call from his assistant in L.A. “Stan is wild,” said the assistant. “He should not have been naked for your centerfold. Please. Don’t.” (A Hulk costume was later superimposed over Lee’s body in postproduction.)
Stan Lee was obviously no Burt Reynolds, but he had nice gams 30 years ago, eh?
Someone was kind enough to post an HD file of “Desinto,” the animated short that Surrealist painter Salvador Dali and Walt Disney collaborated on for over eight months in 1945 and 1946 (along with Disney artist John Hench who did the storyboards). The film was eventually shelved due to WWII-era financial problems at Disney’s company. Dalí described the film as “a magical display of the problem of life in the labyrinth of time” and Disney said it was “a simple story about a young girl in search of true love.”
“Destino” came out of its cryogenic deep freeze in 1999 when it was revived by Roy Disney, then working on Fantasia 2000. The short film was constructed from the existing story art and production notes, a 17-second animation test, talking to John Hench and a few clues gleaned from Gala Dali’s personal writings. “Destino” was directed by French animator Dominique Monfréy (his first directorial credit) at the Paris offices of Disney Studios France and a team of over 20 others.
The “plot” of “Destino” involves a tragic love story: Chronos (time) falls in love with a mortal woman and they cannot be together. They dance across surrealist landscapes. Dalinian things happen.
The 17 seconds of extant footage from the ill-fated project is the bit with the Dalian parade floats on turtles moving towards each other as the baseball player looks on. Also, it’s worth mentioning, that there would have been a mix of animation and live action dancers in Dali and Disney’s original vision for “Destino.” The appropriately yearning soundtrack is a song by the Mexican composer Armando Dominguez, sung by Dora Luz.
I’ve seen “Destino” twice in museums (the huge Dali career retrospective exhibit in Philadelphia back in 2005 and the LACMA show focusing on Dali’s work in Hollywood). I loved it, but I have problems with it. It’s a remarkable work of art, don’t get me wrong, I think “Destino” is pretty great, but it’s not really a Dali/Disney collaboration like it was hyped-up to be, but something more accurately described as the work of that was inspired by (however faithfully) Dali and Disney’s vision. I was expecting something “archival” or “vintage” I suppose, so therein lay my disappointment, as a huge Dali buff, nothing to do with the actual work, which is marvelous, as anyone can see.
“Destino” is available as a special feature on the Fantasia / Fantasia 2000 special edition Blu-ray. There’s a gallery of some of the production art and correspondence between Walt Disney and Salvador Dali at the great Disney fanblog 2719 Hyperion.
Los Angeles-based photographer Tim Tadder and crew decided to gather up a bunch of bald men and photograph them while hurling water balloons at their heads “to capture the explosion of water at various intervals.”
The pathetic nincompoops who are in charge of running Mitt Romney’s political self-immolation campaign have found a novel way to make sure that their hapless candidate continues to be chained to the twin topics of the rotting, stinking Republican albatross of Missouri’s idiot bastard son, GOP Senate candidate Todd Akin and his running mate Paul Ryan’s rather uncompromising views on abortion:
In September of 1969 I saw The Incredible String Band perform at the Fillmore West. I attended the concert with a theater company I was a member of called The Floating Lotus Magic Opera (yes, it’s true). The concert was sparsely attended, the Floating Lotus making up a good part of it, and there was a real sense of communal intimacy in the Fillmore that night, with the audience singing and chanting along with Mike Heron, Robin Williamson, Licorice McKechnie, Rose Simpson and various other members of the String Band’s extended family.
The air was thick with incense, pot smoke and patchouli as the audience (gathering) repeated together the mantra from “A Very Cellular Song.”
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.”
In retrospect, the scene probably resembled a diorama housed in a sideshow museum called “The Weird World Of Hippie Freaks” (no one under 18 admitted). But at the time, it really was sweetness and light and the vibes were good. The Incredible String Band were not your usual rock ‘n’ roll act. They were a group of traveling minstrels that had come to town to share their music, good spirits and friendship. After their performance there was much mingling between audience and band and a genuine feeling of connectedness. I’ve never been to concert like it since.
Be Glad For the Song Has No Ending (1970) is a film that captures the hippiness of TISB and while it is at times dated and silly, there’s no denying the film is a spirited bit of whimsy that falls into the kind of strangely compeling vanity projects that many bands of the era were involved in, most notably Led Zeppelin’s The Song Remains The Same and The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour. No one will mistake these films as great works of art but they are trippy glimpses into what happens when musicians and Purple Owsley cross paths.
Earlier this month, Wilson and a small group of friends who call themselves “Defense Distributed” launched an initiative they’ve dubbed the “ Wiki Weapon Project.” They’re seeking to raise $20,000 to design and release blueprints for a plastic gun anyone can create with an open-source 3D printer known as the RepRap that can be bought for less than $1,000. If all goes according to plan, the thousands of owners of those cheap 3D printers, which extrude thin threads of melted plastic into layers that add up to precisely-shaped three-dimensional objects, will be able to turn the project’s CAD designs into an operational gun capable of firing a standard .22 caliber bullet, all in the privacy of their own garage.”