YouTuber miltoncarmona has done Lou Reed fans a service by compiling a bunch of clips of Reed performing live in Paris from 1974 to 1976. I’ve seen most of these before but not in one place. Thanks milton.
 

 
During its limited theatrical release in 1983 Rock & Rule was discounted by critics and ignored by audiences. But over the past three decades it has steadily gained a cult following, particularly among movie geeks who get a thrill out of watching anthropomorphic animals singing new wave songs.

With its amusing cyberpunk plot, clever direction by Clive Smith and a pretty fine soundtrack by Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Cheap Trick, Debbie Harry and Earth, Wind and Fire, Rock & Rule kept me engaged and entertained for the duration of its tight 77 minute running time…which is saying quite a bit considering I have little patience for animated movies. And it’s hard not to like a movie featuring an evil Mick Jagger in the form of a large cat-like humanoid.

If you like Ralph Bakshi and Heavy Metal, you should get a kick out of Rock & Rule.
 

Joey Ramone in Denver with my friend Eric. 1977.
 
Okay, if you follow my posts on Dangerous Minds you know I’m a hardcore Ramones fan. Along with The Clash, Patti Smith and Television, the Ramones defibrillated my rock n’ roll heart in 1976 with their debut record - 14 songs pounded out in under 30 minutes.

With the exception of some glam bands, reggae, jazz cats and old blues re-issues, I wasn’t listening to music in the early 70s as fervently as I had during the psychedelic Sixties. But the year 1976 changed all that. When it came to rock n’ roll it was a very good year. And The Ramones first record made it a very very very good year. I was so knocked out by the “brothers” from Queens, that I started my own punk band, The Ravers, and a year later opened for The Ramones in a small club in Denver.

In 1977, The Ravers re-located to New York City and I spent almost every night at either CBGB or Max’s and my band played both clubs countless times. It was inevitable that I’d come to know Joey Ramone. While we were by no means best friends, we did share more than a few beers with each other and passionately exchanged our views on the one thing that mattered most to us: rock music.

Joey was a shy guy, almost painfully so. But if you gained his trust and he got comfortable with you, he was a wonderful person to talk to - smart, with a dry sense of humor and a sweet disposition. I liked him…a lot. And I miss him and Johnny and Dee Dee profoundly.

When rock n’ roll is your religion, as it is mine, you feel a deep debt to the indispensably essential artists who rescue the music during those critical times when a combination of greed, narrowmindedeness and apathy threaten to destroy what means so much to you. I measure my life not in years but in increments rooted in memories of a string of epiphanies related to rock, sex, drugs, books and movies.

I have forgotten so much over the years. But there are things I’ll never forget, things wrapped around my DNA tighter than a cock ring on John Holmes’ pecker: my first fuck, my first introduction to Kerouac’s On The Road, the first time I saw El Topo, my first acid trip, my daughter’s birth (definitely a rock n’ roll moment), and the first time I heard The Ramones. Like gods hovering over Olympian mountains, these memories loom large in my brain and lodge themselves in my body like invisible visceral tattoos.

It may sound shallow to admit to such a pop culture oriented theosophy, but I’m a shallow motherfucker and, as much as I’d like to think otherwise, I’m heavy into the cheap thrills that keep my prick hard, my heart pumping and fuel the ongoing urge to get up in the morning.

Some people draw spiritual sustenance from Jesus and Mohamed. Some from a diet of brown rice and bean sprouts. Others get off on yoga asanas and mega-doses of vitamin B. And then there are the freaks like me who find God in the almighty power chord that resonates thru my flesh and bones transforming my being into a 190 pound tuning fork made of meat, blood and cum. Hallelujah! 

Happy birthday Joey Ramone, you’re a fuckin’ god!
 

 
New Directions recently re-issued Patti Smith’s book of poems Woolgathering, which has been out-of-print for almost 20 years. The new edition contains a previously unpublished autobiographical short story called “Two Worlds.”

Woolgathering is an evocation of Smith’s childhood and early days in New York City delivered in sensuous prose that flutters at the edge of consciousness like the iridescent wings of a Luna moth. The writing is vivid, intoxicating and haunted.

“I had a ruby.  Imperfect, beautiful like faceted blood.  It came from India where they wash up on the shore.  Thousands of them—the beads of sorrow.  Little droplets that somehow became gems gathered by beggars who trade them for rice.  Whenever I stared into its depths I felt overcome, for caught within my little gem was more misery and hope than one could fathom.”

In the video below, Patti reads from Woolgathering and shares memories of growing up in Jersey and New York. She is, as usual, totally charming.

This was shot at my favorite bookstore on the planet, the Strand. For 25 years I lived just a few blocks from the Strand and would spend at least 10 hours a week there hunting and gathering. I have the books to prove it. Thousands of them.
 

Toni Young of Red C. Photo by Jim Saah.
 
Salad Days: The Washington D.C. Punk Revolution is a new documentary written and directed by Scott Crawford which will take a “comprehensive, honest and insightful look at the DC punk scene from the early 1980s to the decade’s end.”

The film will include exclusive archival photographs, concert footage and interviews with dozens of bands, artists, label owners, zine publishers and others who helped mold and nurture DC’s underground community during this inspired decade of music.

Starring John Stabb, Ian Mackaye, Henry Rollins, Dave Grohl, Alec Mackaye, and many more.

The release date will happen some time in 2013. Watch the trailer below.
 

 
Rolling Stone magazine’s website is streaming the new Joey Ramone album, ya know?. It’s his second solo release and consists of tunes that he wrote during the last 15 years of his life. On first listen, it sounds good to me - a little slick and tamer than The Ramones, but still a worthy addition to the long glorious history of one of punk’s pioneers.

Check out ya know? here. The album hits the streets on May 22nd.

 
Zilla Minx of Rubella Ballet has put together a wonderful documentary that tells the story of the women who pioneered the British punk rock scene. This is a vital film that brings some balance to the lopsided male-centric history of punk.

Featuring women punk rockers from bands of the era including Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex, Vi Subversa of Poison Girls, Eve Libertine & Gee of Crass, Gaye Black of The Adverts, Michelle of Brigandage,Ruth & Janet of Hagar The Womb and journalists, authors and photographers Julie Burchill and Caroline Comb and more. This film includes interviews with the following women & rare footage of their 1980 s live punk gigs. Poly Styrene: Lead vocalist, X-Ray Spex. Gee Vaucher: Art Work, Crass. Eve Libertine: Vocals, Crass. Gay Black: Bass Player, The Adverts. Vi Subversa: Lead Vocalist & guitarist, Poison Girls. Julie Burchill. Author, Journalist. Lou Moon: Lead Vocalist, Evil I. Caroline Coon: Manager, Slits & The Clash, Journalist/Artist Zillah Minx: Lead Vocalist, Rubella Ballet Michelle: Lead Vocalist, Brigandage Helen Of Troy: Actress and Vocalist, FU2 Justine: Violinist, Grechen Hoffner Olga Orbit: Keyboards, Youth in Asia Nettie Baker: Author. Ruth & Janet: Vocalist & Guitarist, Hagar The Womb Rachel Minx: Bass player, Rubella Ballet Kara Minx: Child ballet dancer, Rubella ballet Mary: Bodyguard to Poly-Styrene.”

Watch it on Dangerous Minds and then buy it here. Support D.I.Y. films.
 

 
Guess who.
Update: the answer is…(drum roll)...Lux Interior!

 
The audio is a bit rough but this fiery performance by The Patti Smith Group on Cinco de Mayo at the Diego Rivera Museum in Mexico City immediately taps into something mystical. Patti seems completely possessed by the magic of the moment and the place. And the place is possessed of some serious mojo:

The unique museum was conceived and created by muralist Diego Rivera, who, motivated by his own interest in Mexican culture, collected near 60,000 pre-Hispanic pieces during his life and projected a building to place and exhibit them. It was completed after his death by architects Juan O’Gorman and Heriberto Pagelson and Rivera’s own daughter, Ruth. Built of black volcanic stone, it takes the form of a pyramid. The museum articles are collected from almost every indigenous civilization in Mexico’s history.

The building forms a teocalli with means “house of energy”, its design notably influenced by the Teotihuacan culture as can be appreciated in the building’s boards, recreating the image of the rain god Tlaloc. Wikipedia.

Patti is 66 fucking years old and she continues to amaze. And on the night of this performance, Patti had the help of Tlaloc the rain god, the good vibes of Cinco de Mayo and the Supermoon! - a rare and powerful convergence of place, energy and artist. Plus, it was The Patti Smith Groups’ first ever concert in Mexico. A good night for rock and roll.

Audio is real loud. You might want to turn down the volume.

 
Patti talks about punk rock at the Frida Kahlo Museum after the jump…

 
Einstürzende Neubauten front-man Blixa Bargeld demonstrating his recipe for an ink-black calamari risotto.

About midway through, the conversation turns to memory and the sensual pleasures of cooking.

And look, not a single broken dish!
 

 
Via Nicole Panter