Akira Kurosawa with another director mentioned in the song
In Bollywood films, it’s quite common to see a dance number at the end of a movie that has little to do with the plot called an “Item number.” This item number, from a popular comedy called Chintu Ji, instead of using tribal gibberish—which was apparently the original idea—employs the names of international film directors:
This might be an example of something that he did because he was “only in it for the money,” but Zappaheads will rejoice to see this piece.
Producer Ed Seeman (who posted this on YouTube) writes:
“I first met Frank when He was playing a steady gig at the Garrick Theater in Greenwich Village. I hired him to score a 30-second animated TV commercial I was animating and producing for Luden’s cough drops. He requested $2,000 plus a studio for a day with a wide variety of instruments plus a guy to do cough sounds.”
This commercial won a Clio award for “Best Use of Sound.” At a time when most people still didn’t have a color TV set, this must have been a striking spot indeed.
I’m not entirely sure when Sex Gang Children and their charismatic leader, Andi Sex Gang, first came into my life but ever since, the magic and texture behind this man has entranced me. Often sounding like the exotic love child of Bowie and Brecht, but firmly remaining to this day his own man and artist, Andi Sex Gang is undoubtedly one of the most underrated figures in music. All of that despite his band charting repeatedly on the UK indie lists in the 80’s and then going on to work with the legendary Mick Ronson. (The latter must have felt invigorated to work with someone truly unique,vital and not expecting him to rehash the Diamond Dogs blues.)
The journey of any artist with bone-bred integrity and an unwillingness to whore is going to be a rocky one and Andi is no exception. Luckily for us all, his life and musical journey has been covered in one hale and hearty documentary, Bastard Art. Before getting to watch this film, I was just excited to know that someone took the time and energy to cover the man. After watching this film, I was excited to know that a guy like Andi Sex Gang is featured in a well made, lovingly researched and incredibly accessible documentary. It’s the perfect mix of being thorough and surprising enough to woo the hardcore fans but pieced together in such a way that it will lure anyone unfamiliar with Sex Gang Children.
In Bastard Art, we get to see Andi go from a little boy with a natural instinct for song writing and singing to a squatter in the punk scene. In fact, it was his friend from that same scene, George O’Dowd aka Boy George, that gifted the band name, Sex Gang Children, to him. (A name undoubtedly with origins from music savant Malcolm McClaren, who had worked with a pre-Culture Club George.) From there, we get interviews with former band mates, friends and musical peers. But most importantly, we get and receive a bounty of interview footage from the man himself, Andi Sex Gang.
The man is the star of the show, not just because he is the subject matter, but because his natural charisma, smarts and sheer will of survival draws you to him. There are performers that are good artists but have rocks for personality but that is far from the case with Andi Sex Gang. The amount of bowling balls this man has had to jump, ranging from bad music deals, facing fake criminal charges that ranged from rape to carrying explosives and an industry that acts more like the ravenous center in the lake of ice in “Dante’s Inferno”, is harrowing. Weaker souls have been eaten by that very machine, but weak is not a word associated with ASG. Scrappy and tenacious, absolutely, but not weak.
Director Vince Corkadel, who has worked previously with both Andi and Sex Gang Children, has a lot to be proud of here. The key to any truly great music related documentary is having the music paint the right picture over the canvas of information. For me, there are few things more frustrating than a documentary about a musician that features little to none of their music. It would be like watching a bunch of people talking about a painter and never showing even a scrap of one of their paintings. Beyond frustrating, but Bastard Art is a film that thankfully does not suffer that fate.
The pacing is tight and flows very well. There are zero lulls and it does exactly what this type of film should do; leaving you wanting more and wanting to devour more of the great art featured. Safe to say, Bastard Art is one of the best documentaries to have come out in the last few years. What’s inspiring about this is that guys like Corkadel and Larry Wessel (Iconoclast) have proven that one can make a vital and culturally rich documentary while sticking to a true independent, DIY approach. This is no Sundance indie, which is safe in its bigger budgets and often homogenized layers. Instead this is a film born out of pure love, determination and years of hard work and research.
No matter what labels people will throw on the works of Sex Gang Children and Andi, none can ultimately stick, proving not only the folly of “genres” but also the folly of trying to box in an artist you love. A guy like Andi Sex Gang, who continues to be as prolific and active as ever, will set fire to that box, and like a pale faced shaman with a mind of darkness and heart of light, will continue this fight of life. And nowhere is this ever more present than in Bastard Art.
For more information about Bastard Art, check out the official website.
In Kill Your Idols director Scott Crary attempts to find some connection between No Wave bands of the late 1970s like Teenage Jesus And The Jerks, Suicide and Swans with contemporary post-punkers Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Black Dice, Liars and others. The link is too tenuous to stand up to close scrutiny, but the movie is fascinating none-the-less for its exciting archival footage and compelling interviews with New York City’s avant-garde old guard. Listening to Lydia Lunch’s bilious rant about rock and roll’s new breed of hipster bands as a “pandering bunch of mama’s boys” who are “desperate to have their music used in the next car commercial” is a hoot. As are similarly contemptuous critques from Lee Ranaldo and Arto Lindsey.
Contrasting the newer bands with their older influences hits a resonant chord when DNA’s Lindsey describes the 1970’s NYC scene as an era when “we didn’t have a whole industry selling us back to ourselves.” This is the significant difference between creating and re-creating. In their self-consciousness, the new bands lack the vision, fearlessness and recklessness that no-wave’s pioneers brought to the mix every time they stepped on stage. It is impossible to replicate the “shock of the new.” Nothing seems dangerous anymore because everything has been radiated in the pasteurizing glow of our retro-obsessed culture. Rock and roll is disappearing up its own asshole. It wasn’t always this way. With every note, No Wave hit the self-destruct button. Gone. This doesn’t mean that the new groups aren’t good - I love Yeah Yeah Yeahs - but trying to find the link between them and the original no wavers is like trying to find fingerprints on water.
Update: The numbnut who uploaded Kill Your Idols pulled the movie from their Youtube channel. If you have a Netflix account, it is available to stream here.
What the hell, why not a little more music from Coachella 2012?
The Black Keys El Camino was one of my favorite albums of 2011 and in that I was hardly alone. It continued the Keys ascent into the rock and roll stratosphere. Over the course of 11 years (an eternity in today’s rock scene), Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney have managed to do something few bands accomplish these days: stick around. Here they are joined by Gus Seyffert on bass guitar and keyboardist John Wood in a dynamite performance (with a very cool lightshow) at Coachella on Friday. It was a cold night in Indio but The Keys brought the heat.
Setlist: Howlin’ for You, Next Girl, Same Old Thing, Dead and Gone, Gold on the Ceiling, Thickfreakness, I’ll Be Your Man, Your Touch, Little Black Submarines, Money Maker, She’s Long Gone, Nova Baby, Ten Cent Pistol, Tighten Up, Lonely Boy, Everlasting Light, I Got Mine.
To enjoy the whole blistering set, go to the Youtube channel and follow the prompts in the upper right hand corner of the video.
BEE Gees star Robin Gibb is fighting for his life after contracting pneumonia in his battle against cancer. The 62-year-old singer’s family have been keeping vigil at his bedside at a hospital in Chelsea, west London.
Robin had surgery on his bowel 18 months ago for an unrelated condition, but a tumour was discovered and he was diagnosed with cancer of the colon and, subsequently, of the liver.
It had been thought his cancer was in remission as early as last month, but the latest deterioration in his health coincides with reports of a secondary tumour.”
In this live footage shot in 1974 in Australia, Robin’s angelic voice is in full flower.
Five years ago today Don Ho ascended in a spiraling cloud of tiny bubbles to the great luau in the sky.
Here’s the master of mellowness covering Peter Gabriel’s “Shock The Monkey” from the album When Pigs Fly and The Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” on The Conan O’Brian Show in 1995.
Children Medieval Band might not be the most catchy of names, but listen to these kids play, and Hell yeah, there is a future for Rock ‘n’ Roll!
CMB cover 3 Rammstein tracks and this is what their blurb says on You Tube:
Only 5 yrs and 8 mo, Cornelia is helping her older brother and sister to record one of their favorite songs. Rammstein has some amazing compositions, likeable to younger kids too.
Not much the wiser, but fuck Simon Cowell, these youngsters offer a Hope that music can still mean something more than just the homogenized corporate bullshit piped out in malls, downloads and TV shows.
No, you’re not looking at a promo pic for a new film starring Seth Rogen as a 70s hesher, but of an actual 70s rock band from Davenport, Iowa who called themselves Turds of Misery.
You may have seen this photo making the rounds on the Internet a few years ago with a rather colorful background story which was originally reported by SF Weekly and Weather Station 1:
Turds of Misery played only six shows during their short existence. Based in a small town on the outskirts of Winnipeg, Manitoba, the three-piece act quickly abandoned their first concept—an Alan Parson Project cover band—to focus on original tunes. The band included (from left) bassist Dave, drummer Gord, and guitarist Bagpipes McDonald. One of their songs, I Seen You At The Corner Store, received some airplay on the local AM station in 1980. After the band split up, Dave returned to his career as a high school geography teacher, while Gord went to prison for stealing golf balls from the forest. Bagpipes, meanwhile, became the lead guitarist in the current touring version of Foreigner.
Well, it turns out Weather Station 1 was having a laff and said this:
So, that nonsense I typed up the other day about this weird picture of a faded 70s rock band called Turds of Misery kind of took off over the weekend. Internet writer John Biggs was the first to spot it, but the fuss all started because a writer named Ian S. Port at sfweekly.com believed my bullshit and ran it as a news item. This, for a while, lived on the front page of digg.com and has popped up all over the web.
Ian probably should have realized that there really couldn’t be anyone named “Bagpipes McDonald.”
Okay, now that we have all the confusion cleared up, there was in fact a real 70s band called Turds of Misery and here’s the real story behind this epic photo:
To set the record straight…. These boys aren’t Canadians. They’re from the Davenport, Iowa area. That’s my dad in the middle with the beer. His name is Dave, not Gord. Wade is on the right, and Wade’s brother on the left. They did an excellent cover of “Wild Thing.”
So now you have it. Everything you need to know about Turds of Misery.
