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The crash of the anvil at the nightclub school: Sheila Rock’s New Romantics
10.07.2023
09:50 am
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In the ever-evolving tapestry of fashion and youth subcultures, the New Romantics of the 1980s emerged as a vibrant and revolutionary movement. Known for their flamboyant style, gender-bending fashion, and a passion for all things theatrical and Bowie-related, the New Romantics left an indelible mark on pop culture via groups like Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, Culture Club, and Spandau Ballet. And there was also Visage, the post punk synthpop supergroup comprised of members, then present or former, of Magazine (Barry Adamson, Dave Formula), Siouxsie and the Banshees (John McGeoch), Ultravox (Midge Ure, Billy Currie) along with Steve Strange and Rusty Egan, who arguably started the whole scene by giving it a place to flourish, first at a West End dive bar called Billy’s and later at the Blitz nightclub.

Embedding herself among these after dark denizens, photographer Sheila Rock captured this extraordinary scene like no other.  Rock’s remarkable images of the New Romantics preserves a moment in time when fashion, music, and rebellion converged to create a cultural phenomenon. She’s put together a new book of these portraits titled New Romantics - From Billy’s to the People’s Palace published by MOONBOY Books.

I asked Sheila Rock a few questions via email.

How did the New Romantic scene first start to get off the ground?

Sheila Rock: The name ‘New Romantics’ didn’t come into use until much later – but the scene was really born with the Bowie nights at Billy’s in the autumn of 1978.  Steve Strange and Rusty Egan chose this very run-down bar on the edge of Soho as the location for their nights dedicated to the music of David Bowie and of course it attracted a highly creative crowd – many of them had been part of the punk scene, including Steve himself, so they were predisposed to dressing up and having a good time and cared little about what others thought! 
 

Rusty Egan, left, Steve Strange, 2nd from right, at Billy’s 1978
 
When did it reach critical mass and which media outlets first noticed?

The Face and iD magazines were probably the first to report the movement in relation to what people were wearing - and Spandau Ballet were regulars at the Blitz so reports of their low-key/secret gigs around London started to appear in the music press along with photos of their exotically dressed followers. It was the usual kind of osmosis, where a small cult becomes mainstream by attracting attention – almost a form of self-destruction.

Spandau Ballet released ‘To Cut a Long Story Short’ in October 1980 and it became a hit as did Visage’s single ‘Fade to Grey’ when it was released a month later; of course Steve’s unique look attracted a lot of attention – he was interviewed on primetime television in the UK and the song was played around the world and Steve’s photo appeared in countless music and fashion magazines which I suppose heralded a change in the way the regulars at the Blitz felt about the night they had built around themselves – everyone now wanted to go and the queue became unmanageable; famously, Steve turned Mick Jagger away as he was not sufficiently well-dressed to gain entry.

By 1981, when Steve and Rusty held the Valentine’s Day Ball at People’s Palace, bands like Ultravox, Japan and Depeche Mode had reached a broader public and brought the dressing-up culture to the fore.
 

Depeche Mode, 1981
 
The people who went to Billy’s and The Blitz, what sort of day jobs did they have or were they mostly on the dole?

Many were students – fashion and design particularly; Stephen Jones, the milliner, was a regular at the Blitz.  It was a young crowd, so understandably some were unemployed or had yet to find their role – many regulars went on to become stars; Spandau Ballet, Culture Club, Visage, Ultravox, Sade, Wham!, Bananarama – the DJ Jeremy Healy was a regular, as well as some lesser-known but super-stylish bands like Blue Rondo a La Turk and Animal Nightlife
 

A young George O’Dowd, right, at Billy’s, 1978
 
How friendly was this scene? Were the participants more interested in looking good and posing or having a good time?

I think most people just wanted to have a good time whilst looking great – I’m sure there was rivalry, there always is where style is concerned – but the overall feel was one of a close-knit group of like-minded people enjoying themselves in a city which was, at that time,  a grey metropolis scarred by strikes and unemployment – a far cry from the London we know now. 
 

Arriving at People’s Palace by Tube, 1981
 
How dangerous was it for the New Romantic types to walk around London, or take the Tube, dressed like that? 

I don’t think it was dangerous as a rule – punk had already given the general public some exposure to counter-cultural style, but physical violence was not a common issue - although I’m sure there were incidents; there was certainly name-calling and taunting, but most young people shrugged this off.  People rarely travelled to clubs on their own, going in groups was much more fun and of course there was safety in numbers! (photo)
 

Jane Khan, Patti Bell and friend at People’s Palace
 
Who had the most elaborate outfits?

The Birmingham-based designers Jane Khan and Patti Bell created some wonderfully outlandish outfits – and Martin Degville, who became the frontman of Sigue Sigue Sputnik was incredibly imaginative.

What was the mix like in the Blitz? Girls vs. boys, gay vs. straight, black vs. white?

The whole ethos of Billy’s and the Blitz was based on style and attitude – if you had both then you were welcome.  The balance between girls and boys was probably about equal – but what you have to remember is that those clubs were not set up attract gay or straight, black or white – dressing up, Bowie and a good time were the prerequisites!  You can see from the photos how tiny the Blitz was, everyone squeezed in together. 

Aside from the people who went on to be notable or famous, were there any other characters who especially stood out?

In a scene where ‘dress to excess’ was the byword, it’s hard to pick out specific individuals – but the young girl I chose to be on the cover of the book expressed an innocence and creative flare I thought looked beautiful.
 

Scarlett Cannon, right
 
Another striking and imaginative figure was Scarlett Cannon – she always looked amazing – her style has become something of a legend, with her dramatically cropped and sculpted hair and stark makeup. 

Stephen Linard was a stylist by trade and his clothing combinations were always exotically full-on.
 

Stephen Linard at People’s Palace 1981
 
Tell me about the new book.

The New Romantics book is a social document of a particular time where music and fashion were celebrated. 

Whilst I dress in simple black, I am forever attracted to theatrical and flamboyant self-expression.  Clothes make a statement. The New Romantics scene caught my attention, and I was compelled to photograph club life and the individuals that made it happen. Young people were having fun and exploring their creativity. 

Nightclubs were the catwalks and an inspiration for new ideas. Electronic pop music punctuated the scene and bands like Visage and Depeche Mode were the heroes. This book captures the zeitgeist of this all too brief movement; a moment when lipstick and colour ruled. 

New Romantics - From Billy’s to the People’s Palace is published by MOONBOY Books as a strictly limited edition of 800 copies on 1st November.  Advance orders are now being taken at www.moonboy.space
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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10.07.2023
09:50 am
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Michael Jackson vs Donny Osmond, the KKK and space aliens in insane new cult musical!! (The Return)
02.22.2023
05:15 pm
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NOTE: This post, written by the late Howie Pyro, was originally published in 2020, when For the Love of a Glove had just opened. It’s back! Go see it if you live in Los Angeles!
 
Julien Nitzberg. Shit-stirrer, rebel director, artist, punk rocker and genius are some titles bestowed on this forward-thinking, back-slapping smart-ass. You might know him from his earliest documentary on Hasil Adkins—lunatic rockabilly one man band-he thought the guy in the radio made the music that way. Hasil sang about beheading his girlfriend so she “can eat no more hot dogs.” At that time he met Adkins’ neighbors the White family, who were the focus of his next documentary, the VHS cult sensation The Dancing Outlaw, about Jesco White, hillbilly clog dancer and Elvis impersonator. If you added up all the views just on YouTube of the different clips of this film alone it adds up into the millions.

Fast forward to 2009, Johnny Knoxville and Nitzberg make the cult hit The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia. In between these Nitzberg did many other projects Like Mike Judge presents: Tales From the Tour Bus and the controversial The Beastly Bombing operetta, an equal opportunity love/hatefest about, well…the subtitle of the operetta is “A Terrible Tale of Terrorists Tamed by the Tangles of True Love,” if that helps. You can read about it here.
 
All I knew about For the Love of a Glove going in was Julien’s history and sense of humor and that it was about Michael Jackson. That alone is at least a Godzilla’s worth of possible satiric destruction in the hands of Nitzberg, and that’s putting it mildly! It seems all of MJ’s bad behavior is blamed on aliens that look like glittery gloves who come to take over humanity. Oh did I mention it’s also a musical? And a puppet show? With life-sized puppets? The main one being Donny Osmond, Michael’s mortal enemy? There’s even one of Corey Feldman! And Emmanuel Lewis!!

The show is a non-stop comedy clobbering of the senses, with a very small, very talented cast, great original music, cool effects, etc. Most of the actors play as many as four roles, and being that much of the cast is African American it was odd/funny and visibly uncomfortable (to some) when these actors donned white hoods for the big Ku Klux Klan musical show stopper! But if you know Julien…
 
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In these days of modern mass paranoia and casual racism, over-sensitivity and dumbing down of all things, even I had a flash of looking behind me (as I saw others do) and wondering if this was cool to like, who was getting offended, who was laughing, and right then at that moment I realized I have been way more affected by all this modern bullshit than I thought. We need people like Julien Nitzberg to remind and instill in us that it is not only okay, but quite necessary to think, laugh (at ourselves AND at others) and learn.
 
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I spoke to Julien Nitzberg and cast member Pip Lilly about all of this.
 
Howie Pyro: Okay so why now? When did the idea come to you & what brought MJ to the top of your creative lunacy? 

Julien Nitzberg: The initial idea for this show came to me almost seventeen years ago. I was approached by a major cable TV network to write a Michael Jackson biopic. I’ve been a Michael Jackson fan since I was a little kid and watched the Jackson 5 cartoon on Saturday mornings. I tried to find an interesting way to tell Michael’s story, but the later years were just too bizarre and I couldn’t find a normal way to tell it. How could anyone explain Bubbles the chimp, trying to buy the Elephant Man’s bones or sleepovers with kids. It was all too bizarre. I decided that the only way to tell it was to find a surreal way into the story. I pitched them the idea that all the boys and things in Michael’s life weren’t his choices. Instead his glove was an evil alien trying to take over the world who forced Michael to do all the bizarre things in his life. The alien gave him his talent so Michael was forced into doing things that he was severely embarrassed by.

The execs laughed at this idea but then asked me to do the normal version.  I knew it would turn out terribly, so I said no. Over the years my mind kept returning to Michael’s life and finally I decided to write my version of his life as a musical with all original music.

I spent a couple of years researching Michael’s life trying to find the most interesting obscure parts to talk about. I decided to have it focus on his religious upbringing as a Jehovah’s Witness.  Jehovah’s Witnesses have a really fucked up attitude toward sexuality. They teach that masturbating can turn you gay because as a man you get used to a man’s hand on your penis and want other mens’ hands on your penis. I thought this was hilarious. How did MJ get raised in the religion and then his most famous dance move winds up being him grabbing his own crotch?  I then realized he didn’t do the crotch grab, his alien glove forced him to do it!

I also found out more about his rivalry with Donny Osmond. The Osmonds were clearly patterned to be the white version of the Jackson 5. Five brothers singing, dressing similarly. It was creepy.  The Osmonds first big hit was “One Bad Apple.” It sounded so much like the Jackson 5 that Michael’s mom thought it was the Jackson 5 when she heard it on the radio.

The Osmonds clearly ripped off the Jackson 5 and what was worse they were Mormons which at the time taught that all black people were cursed with the “Mark of Cain” and were not allowed in their temples. They even taught that if you were black and converted to Mormonism you could go to Heaven but would be a servant to white people in Heaven. It’s some of the most fucked up religious shit you can dream of.  They also taught that at the end of days when Christ returns all black people will have the curse of the “Mark of Cain” removed and turn white. Of course, Michael did this in his life so that became a big part of the story.  We even have a song that Donny sings to Michael called “What a Delight When You Turn White.”

I felt like now was a great time to do the show. Everyone is talking about how our country has been ruined by fucked up racist and homophobic religions. We deal with one of the clearest cases of cultural appropriation that ever existed - people who belonged to an openly racist church going out and trying to sound like the biggest black music act of the day. It all felt like things that are in our country’s cultural conversation right now.

Continues after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Howie Pyro
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02.22.2023
05:15 pm
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Listen to John Carpenter’s very 80s synth-rock band the Coupe de Villes


The cover of one of only 150 known copies of ‘Waiting Out The Eighties,’ the sole album from The Coupe de Villes—a trio featuring director John Carpenter, Nick Castle, and Tommy Lee Wallace.

Horror fanatics, especially those dedicated to the films of director John Carpenter, are likely familiar with this image taken from Halloween‘s wrap party in 1978. In it we see three performers all wearing Michale Meyers’ aka The Shape masks. The trio would then lose the masks and reveal themselves to be John Carpenter, Nick Castle, and Tommy Lee Wallace or The Coupe de Villes. The long-time friends would start making music for films in college at USC Cinema in mid-1971 where Carpenter had become a bit of a go-to for USC students when it came to providing the music they used in their films. According to Wallace, they wrote music together with Carpenter and Castle contributing most of the content which Wallace describes as “kind of satirical, nostalgic send up songs,” that also happened to be “solid musically.’ Carpenter even snuck some of The Coupe de Villes’ original music into Halloween during a scene featuring Jamie Lee Curtis (Laurie Strode) and Nancy Kyes (Annie Brackett) smoking a joint in Annie’s car with the radio blasting a 1950s sounding jam and the lyrics “Let’s Go! Sha-na-na-ha, Sha-na-na-na,” before the music in the scene flips back to film’s unnerving main theme. Carpenter mused about this Easter egg in an interview from 2016 where he also spoke about some of his early musical inspirations:

“I was into the British Invasion, The Byrds, The Doors and 50’s stuff big time. Dark Star (1974) was my first synth score. I started hearing synth music back in the 60’s and I realized you could sound big with only a keyboard. Claudio Simonetti was a huge influence to me, especially the soundtrack to Suspiria (1977) and Deep Red (1975).”

The band would later appear as The Coupe de Villes in Carpenter’s film Big Trouble in Little China (1985) performing the film’s namesake song. The thing is this—that same year The Couple de Villes recorded a seven-song album Waiting Out the Eighties at the Electric Melody Studios in Glendale, California. Electric Melody is run and operated by Carpenter musical cohort, composer Alan Howarth who has collaborated with Carpenter on his film soundtracks since 1981.
 

A shot of John Carpenter’s band featuring Nick Castle (a college pal of Carpenter’s who portrayed Michael Meyers/The Shape in 1978’s Halloween), and Tommy Lee Wallace (a teenage friend of Carpenter’s who, among many other things, created the infamous Michael Meyers mask), The Coupe de Villes and their appearance in Carpenter’s film ‘Big Trouble in Little China.’

If you’re hoping to score yourself a copy of this ultra-rare record, forget it. Only 150 copies were ever pressed. Financed by Carpenter’s wife at the time, actress Adrienne Barbeau, all copies were then divided evenly between the three members of The Coupe de Villes. The album was mastered by Bernie Grundman, a rather legendary Hollywood-based mastering engineer with over 5000 credits to his name. Many fans have wondered if Grundman still has the master tapes for Waiting Out The Eighties, hoping the coveted album might someday see a re-press. At the time of this writing, I found one Mint/Near Mint copy of the elusive record for $3500 plus another five and a half bucks for shipping. Now that we all have yet another reason to dig the work of John Carpenter, let’s check out a few tracks from Waiting Out the Eighties while wishing him a very happy 75th birthday today.
 
Have a listen, after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Cherrybomb
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01.16.2023
02:34 pm
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Firesign Theatre Live at the Magic Mushroom
05.12.2022
07:33 am
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I am a man of many enthusiasms, and one of the things that I am, for certain, the MOST enthusiastic about is Firesign Theatre, the legendary psychedelic “Beatles of Comedy.” I’ve been a lifelong Firesign Theatre freak, having discovered them at a very young age. Oh yeah, I was totally obsessed with Firesign Theatre. Often called America’s Monty Python, they’re better described as America’s acid-drenched answer to The Goon Show. I’d listen to their albums with headphones on, in the dark, practically memorizing them. Studies have shown that young minds exposed to surrealism develop better critical thinking skills and I can honestly say that my own mind was rewired, permanently, by my extreme Firesign Theatre fandom. My love for them is a part of my very identity.

Having said all this—and I have complained about this before—Firesign Theatre is an extremely difficult thing to try to get other people interested in. The reaction tends to be rather muted in most cases. Fifty-year-old comedy albums and radio shows? The assumption is that it must be something like Fibber McGee and Molly or The Great Gildersleeve. Or that it must be dated.

It’s neither.

The Firesign Theatre created extremely complex “theater of the mind” comedy albums that were—unavoidably for obvious reasons—in the form of radio plays. Their comedy is multi-leveled, chock full of puns and time travel. It’s not dated as it exists in a self-contained, self-referential Firesign universe of their devising. In the same way someone can study James Joyce for a lifetime and never tire of it, Firesign Theatre holds a similar place in my life and in the lives of many others. When you meet a fellow Firehead, you become instant friends. And then you’ll both start slipping Firesign references into your conversations. (For a really amazing look at the now almost forgotten cultural importance of Firesign Theatre during the 60s and 70s, from Ivy League dorm rooms to the foxholes of Vietnam, listen to this NPR show. Trust me, it’s fantastic.)

All of this is a preamble to informing you, dear friend, that there is a major new product available at the Firesign Theater website. Firesign Theatre Live at the Magic Mushroom is a book/DVD rom put together by their archivist and historian, my esteemed pal Taylor Jessen, who deserves a fucking Grammy award for this production, and for all the detective work that he’s undertaken to locate so many long thought lost tapes of the group’s work.

For Firesign fans, THIS IS AN EVENT. Live at the Magic Mushroom collects the fully-scripted plays that the group performed at a Venture Blvd. coffee house which were also broadcast on Peter Bergman’s Radio Free Oz show. These mythical performances have nary been heard in more than 50 years (a few turned up on torrent trackers) and they are a sheer delight. The weekly shows were all written, performed and taped while the group was working on their second release, How Can You Be in Two Places at Once When You’re Not Anywhere at All. You might assume that they were wood shopping material for that album, but this is not the case and there is almost no overlap at all, although they did debut the changing TV channels device used throughout their Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers album during the Magic Mushroom run.

To a Firesign Theatre fanboy like m’self, these plays are absolutely the Holy Grail of Firesignania. They occupy a space just below the classic studio albums and a little bit above the Dear Friends/Let’s Eat radio series. Firesign on radio was always planned out to a certain extent, but most of it was improvised with the Four or Five Crazy Guys sitting at their mikes looking at each other across a table. The Magic Mushroom plays were tightly scripted and so are more of a piece with their record releases. In other words there are hours of some of their very finest material in the offering of Firesign Theatre Live at the Magic Mushroom. The collection comes inside of a full color 48-page paperback book. Includes all eleven of the surviving Magic Mushroom plays, plus original promos and the 10/29/1967 episode of Radio Free Oz (“The Bridey Murphy Come As You Were Halloween Party.”)

I asked fab Taylor Jessen some questions via email.

What are the Magic Mushroom plays?

The Magic Mushroom plays were a dozen or so half-hour radio plays that the Firesign Theatre performed between October 1967 and January 1968 live in front of a club audience at the Magic Mushroom Club on Ventura Blvd., Studio City, simulcast on Peter Bergman’s radio show Radio Free Oz on KRLA-AM, Los Angeles. The subject matter of the plays ranged from Arthurian adventures to sword-and-sandal epics to Mexican jungle adventures to an ERPI Classroom Films movie of the 1950s to a pirate musical to a Sherlock Holmes parody to a proto-Dwarf channel-surfing epic.

Were the Magic Mushroom plays, in fact, “lost”?

With the exception of “Exorcism in Your Daily Life” and “The Séance”, not only were they all lost, they still are. No masters exist for any shows but those two. There was a collection of open reel tapes documenting the complete Radio Free Oz from the beginning of the Magic Mushroom Play era in October 1967 to the end of January 1968, and every one of the reels with the plays on them was ripped off by persons unknown. We do not expect to recover them. For the most part this box set was built out of audio sources that came from home recordings of the plays made by fans, some of whose names we know, some of whom remain anonymous. Meanwhile the play “The Last Tunnel to Fresno” is truly unknown in any complete audio form - a few minutes of it survived on tape and the audio quality is so horrifically bad we didn’t include it on the box set, even as a supplemental extra.

How long did it take to find them all?

Leaving aside “The Séance”, it took me just a couple of hours to find them all around 2001 when the first bootlegs hit the Internet and I downloaded them all (as many of us did; anyone who goes looking for torrents of Firesign rarities can still find many of the same sources I did). The difference between those bootlegs and what you’ll hear on the box set is the hundred or so hours I spent cleaning up the audio.

You always have crazy stories about the lengths you’ve had to go to locate a certain Firesign tape—like trawling through a shed that had fallen victim to a mudslide—did anything like that happen when you were trying to track the Magic Mushroom tapes down?

Sadly there was no climactic discovery that lead to the creation of this reissue; exactly the opposite was the case. I simply gave up on the idea that we’d ever find better copies of the material, and concentrated on trying to make it all sound acceptable.
 

Above, Firesign Theatre at the Magic Mushroom, 1967.
 
Purchase Firesign Theatre Live at the Magic Mushroom here.

Posted by Richard Metzger
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05.12.2022
07:33 am
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Banana: After 50 years the ultimate Warhol Velvet Underground mystery is finally (almost) solved!!

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I awoke this morning to the extremely sad news that our friend Howie Pyro had passed. The rocker, cultural historian, DJ, founding member of D-Generation, bass player in Danzig, and frequent Dangerous Minds contributor, had a liver transplant last year, but then sadly caught COVID just when everything seemed like it was on a (TBH very unexpected) upswing in his health. I was just thinking about him yesterday and made a mental note to write and wish him well. Then this.

Although I don’t think anyone would have mistaken Howie for an angel—he wouldn’t have needed a liver transplant if he had been—everyone who knew him loved him, because he was just such a sweet man. Not that many people can be said to have been universally loved in their time, but I think it’s true of Howie. The first word that comes to mind to describe him is sweet. He was really sweet and kind and generous. Extra extra, you know?

Howie was also one of the world’s all time great rock-n-roll collectors. OH MY GOD was his collection amazing. Nothing else like it has ever been put together, anywhere in the world, I can say without hesitation. While Howie might have (quite reasonably!) appeared to be a hoarder—this stuff was EVERYWHERE, the kitchen the bathrooms, EVERYWHERE, and there were little pathways so you could walk through—it was all nearly Smithsonian Institute level items! Getting a personal tour was an astonishing show. The weirdest records (lots of rockabilly), hundreds of shoulder-high stacks of magazines and newspapers, memorabilia of every variety, as many times as I was there, I never saw more than the tiniest tip of a very, very big iceberg, but a few things stood out.

One of them was his collection of Andy Milligan movie posters. He owned ALL OF THEM, from all over the world. I mentioned Milligan casually—as one does—and out came several folders (only the movie posters were organized) that blew my mind. Another was something that he’d recently acquired, a small black lithographed poster on card, brushed with actual diamond dust, advertising a 1971 benefit show at the Hollywood Palladium (which never took place) with, get this—The Stooges, the GTOs, John Mendelssohn-Super Star, and the Cockettes! At one point we were standing in his stuffed to the gills kitchen and there was a two foot high stack of faded green newsletters from the late 1950s/early 1960s—crudely produced on an old fashioned mimeograph machine perched next to the sink. The modest publication turned out to be these one to three page listings of Southern California-based establishments that were gay-friendly at a time when gay bars were still being busted and the patrons hauled away in police vans. He’d found this dumpster diving in Palm Springs. Clearly the anonymous person who published this newsletter—which contained other items that would have been of interest to gay men, like recommending gay-friendly doctors and VD clinics—had been doing so for many, many years, as the height of this stack testified to. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. How many other things like this existed that have been lost to the sands of time and basement flooding?

But the best thing of all, in a collection with literally hundreds of thousands of amazing and astonishing items, was his banana ashtray, but I’ll tell Howie tell you the story himself, in this Dangerous Minds post from 2017. RIP Howie Pyro, you will be missed.

It was fifty years ago this week that the future began with the Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol, and his banana. The destruction and rebuilding of rock ‘n’ roll music as it then existed commenced. This was all taking place even though only a few people knew about it at the time. The right few, as always. I have to think that anyone reading this knows the history of the Velvet Underground so I’m not going to rehash it here.

In the thirty years since Warhol’s death, the human race has bought and sold more “Andy” than Andy himself could possibly have dreamed of and more. Much more. Too much even. Year after year there are more Warhol books, toys, giant banana pillows, clothing lines, shoes, Andy Warhol glasses, movies, action figures (or maybe inaction figures, this being Warhol), pencils, notebooks, skateboards—literally everything ever! There’s been more most post mortem Warhol merchandising than for practically anyone or anything you can name. These days, probably even more than for Elvis, Marilyn or James Dean who had head starts.

Warhol and his entourage were infamous speedfreaks—speedfreaks with cameras, tape recorders, and movie gear who talked a lot and didn’t sleep much—and his every utterance was recorded, long before museums, historical posterity and millions of dollars were the reasons.

With the advent of the Warhol Museum, Andy’s every movement, thought, and influence has been discussed, dissected, filed and defiled ad nauseum. Every single piece of art he ever did can be traced back to an original page in a newspaper, an ad in the back of a dirty magazine, a photograph, a Sunday comic, or an item from a supermarket shelf and they’ve ALL been identified and cataloged.

Except for one.

Just one.

Probably the second most popular of Warhol’s images, standing in line right behind the Campbell’s soup can, is the banana image found on the cover of the first Velvet Underground album. Thee banana! But where did it come from? Everything else was appropriated from somewhere. What about this one?

I KNOW where it came from and I have known for around thirty years. Oddly enough it only just now occurred to me (when I looked up Warhol’s death date) that I found this thing, which I am about to describe, mere weeks before Andy’s untimely demise.
 
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I grew up in the sixties and I’ve loved the Velvet Underground since even before the advent of punk. And I love Andy Warhol, too. Just look at my Facebook profile photo. I have shelves of books on Warhol and all things Velvets and have amassed quite a collection of Warhol and Velvets rarities. My favorite book of all time is Andy Warhol’s Index from 1966, a children’s pop-up book filled with drag queens, the Velvets, 3-D soup cans and even a Flexi disc record with Lou Reed’s face on it with a recording of the Velvet Underground listening to a test pressing of their first LP. The one with the BANANA.
 
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The author’s Facebook profile pic. Duh.
 
Andy Warhol’s number one right-hand man in the sixties and the person who turned the Factory silver (among many many other things including being the primary photographer of the Factory’s “silver years”) was Billy Name (Linich). An online comment described him this way:

You can’t get more inside than Billy Name in Warhol’s Factory world. In fact he lived in the Factory - and to be more specific he lived in the bathroom at the Factory - and to be even more specific he stayed in the locked bathroom without coming out for months (years?).

 
And so to quote this definitive “insider” Billy Name on the history of the banana:

...bananas had been a Warhol theme earlier in the Mario Montez feature film Harlot mostly as a comedic phallic symbol. In the general hip culture, Donovan’s “Mellow Yellow” was going on [mellow yellow; roast banana peels in an oven, and then roll and smoke them]. The high was called “mello yellow.”

The specific banana image Andy chose came from I know not where; it’s not a Chiquita banana or Dole fruit company, because Andy’s banana has ‘overripe’ markings on it, and the fruit companies use whole yellow bananas on their stickers. Anyway, Andy first used this particular banana image for a series of silk-screen prints which he screened on white, opaque, flexible, Plexiglass (sort of like 2 feet x 5 feet). First an image of the inner banana “meat” was screened on the Plexi in pink, and then covered by the outer skin screened on and cut out of a glossy yellow sticky-back roll of heavy commercial paper (ordered from some supply warehouse). Thereby each banana could be peeled and the meat exposed and the skin could be replaced a number of times, ‘til the sticky stuff wore out. Naturally this was intentionally erotic Warhol-type art.

When thinking of a cover for the first Velvets album, it was easy for Andy to put one of his own works on the cover, knowing it was hip, outrageous, and original and would be “really great.” Andy always went the easy way, using what he had, rather than puzzling and mulling over some design elements and graphics for cover art that don’t really work. His art was already there, hip, erotic, and cool. The Plexi silk screen art definitely came first, in 1966. The album came out in ‘67. I do not recall any other design being thought of or even considered. The back of the album cover was a pastiche amalgam of photos from Andy’s films, Steven Shore, Paul Morrissey and myself and was messy and mulled over too much.

 
xfcgdvyjervs
 
So here we are on the fiftieth anniversary of The Velvet Underground & Nico and its mysterious banana cover art, and I felt that I have held this secret for way too long. I always wanted to use this in a book or something but it never happened.

This thing was hanging on my kitchen wall for three decades, in New York and LA and is now in secured storage for reasons which are about to become obvious. This is how I found it: One day in the mid 80s I was cruising around the Lower East Side aimlessly—as I had done most of my life up to that point—running into friends, looking at stuff people were selling on the street, stopping into Manic Panic, Venus Records, St. Marks Books, and any junk shops that caught my eye. There was one on Broadway that I had never seen before right down the street from Forbidden Planet and the greatest place ever, the mighty Strand Book Store. I went in and there was a lot of great stuff for me. I found some old records, a huge stash of outrageous and disgusting tabloid newspapers from the sixties which I kept buying there for a couple months afterward, and some cool old knick-knacks. I knocked into something on a crowded table full of junk and heard a big CLANG on the cement floor. I bent down to pick it up. It was one of those cheap triangular tin ashtrays that usually advertised car tires or something mundane. I picked it up (it was face down) and when I turned it over I was surprised to see…THE BANANA!!

It was an ad for bananas printed on a cheap metal ashtray.
 

Don’t you like a banana? ENJOY BANANA. Presented by WING CORP. designed by LEO KONO production”

 
I thought wow, this is cool! But over time I realized that I had quite literally stumbled across a true missing link. I figured I’d use it for something big one day, but I never did. UNTIL NOW. Ladies and germs, Andy Warhol and Velvet Underground fans and scholars, without further ado I bring you THE MISSING LINK! A true Dangerous Minds mega exclusive! (As Jeb Bush would say “Please clap.”).

A primitive, pounding Moe Tucker drumroll please for the reveal of THEE BANANA…
 
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Absolutely bananas, right?

I figured by now that there’d be at least some sort of information on this out there, as I honestly I haven’t looked in ages. But when I was reminded of the fiftieth anniversary of the album being released this past “Sunday Morning,” and took that silly Facebook profile picture it dawned on me. THE BANANA ASHTRAY, my own unique piece of Warhol and Velvets history!!! I spent two or three hours really scouring the Internet yesterday and there isn’t one word about it. No “banana ashtray.” No “Wing Corp,” no “Leo Kono production,” either. Nothing!

So now that I, Howie Pyro, have released this top secret banana, I hope all of you mellow yellow types out there in your yellow velvet uniforms go wild seeking out the info we need! So all you femme fatales, skip one of all tomorrow’s parties and run run run to find some heroin for all your European sons while waiting for your banana man, man.

Stay mellow, stay yellow and don’t slip on any banana peels (slowly, see?). Over and out. Warhol Museum, you know how to reach me…

(To read the comments left on the original post, go here.)
 
fdgukyotiydfs
 

Enjoy an early classic Warhol film ‘Harlot’ (aka ‘Mario Banana’) starring that icon of perversion Jack Smith and Mario Montez.

Posted by Richard Metzger
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05.05.2022
07:21 am
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Completely brilliant sculptures of the cast of UK cult TV show ‘The Young Ones’
08.25.2021
05:55 am
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A sculpture of actor Adrian Edmondson in character as Vyvyan Basterd from the UK cult televsion series, ‘The Young Ones.’
 
At Toy-Con in London in 2020, one of the exhibitors was UK sculptor, artist, and toymaker Mike Strict, who we can all thank for making our mid-80s dreams come true by sculpting up figures based on the unforgettable characters from the UK sitcom The Young Ones. Only twelve episodes exist of The Young Ones, but the impact the show made is still felt by its dedicated fan base to this day. Strict chose to create three sculpts/figures of fictional Scumbag University undergrad students Vyvyan Basterd; an angry heavy metal fan and medical student, played by Adrian (Ade) Edmondson; Rick, a sociology student and genuinely unlikable make-believe anarchist, played by the late Rik Mayall; and Neil Wheedon Watkins Pye, the lentil-loving, suicidal hippie played by Nigel Planer.

Usually, Strict is a strictly one-off kind of toy/figure/sculptor, but this time he did create more than one of his Young Ones figures, sold at Toy-Con. It’s not clear how many Strict made, but what I can tell you is that it appears they were all, rather unsurprisingly, sold. However, that does not mean you are out of luck if this is exactly what your collectible collection is missing, as Strict does accept commissions. At Toy-Con, his Rik, Vyvyan, and Neil figures sold for $75 USD—something to keep in mind if you’re going to try to acquire one. Much of Strict’s work is dark and creepy (YAY!) and includes nods to horror films. So if you’ve ever wanted a play-set based on the 1973 film The Wicker Man starring Christopher Lee, then Strict is your man. Or, perhaps you’ve been pining away for a sculpted diorama of Chuck D and Flavor Flav of Public Enemy, featuring their iconic image of a man in a hat caught in the crosshair of a weapons scope. Because, yeah, Strict made one of those in 2019.
 

Rick.
 

Neil and his everpresent pot of lentils.
 

 

 

 
More after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Cherrybomb
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08.25.2021
05:55 am
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Extreme Record Collecting: Confessions of an analog vinyl snob
07.18.2021
03:00 pm
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Sorry, but this is not going to be one of those analog vs. digital rants that goofball audiophile types like to indulge in at the drop of a hat. In fact I probably should have just called it something like “Why you should never buy new vinyl versions of classic albums.”

Actually I like digital audio just fine. In fact, until four years ago, I’d have told you that I preferred it. SACDs, HDCDs, High Fidelity Pure Audio Blu-Rays, 24-bit HD master audio files, 5.1 surround sound, DSD files—I have a large amount of this kind of material, both on physical media and with another ten terabytes on a computer drive. I like streaming audio very much. Roon is the bomb! Let me be clear, I’ve got no problem with digital audio. Even if I did, 99.9% of all music made these days is produced on a computer, so there’s really no practical way to avoid it. Analog and digital audio are two very separate things and each has its own pluses and minuses. I like them both for different reasons.

Please allow me to state the obvious right here at the outset: Most people WILL NOT GIVE A SHIT about what follows. One out of a hundred maybe, no, make that one out of a thousand. Almost none of you who have read this far will care about this stuff. If you are that one in a thousand person, read on, this was written especially for you.

Everyone else, I won’t blame you a bit if you want to bail.

Continues after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Richard Metzger
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07.18.2021
03:00 pm
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Luke Haines: Psychedelic wrestlers & Xmas tree decorated with portraits of every member of The Fall
07.09.2021
12:01 pm
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Pic via @Bob_Fischer
 
Uncanny Island, the very first solo art exhibition by musician and author Luke Haines is on at the Eston Arts Centre through the end of the month. Should you find yourself in North Yorkshire, you should drop by and check it out.

The exhibit features Haines’ psychedelic visions of British wrestlers from the 1970s and early 80s (echoing his 2011 concept album 9 ½ Psychedelic Meditations on British Wrestling of the 1970s & Early ‘80s) and a Christmas tree festooned with ornaments bearing the likeness of everyone who was ever in the Fall. (The band had 66 members during Mark E. Smith’s five decade run, in case you were wondering.)

Luke Haines’ latest album is Setting The Dogs on The Post Punk Postman.

I asked the artist a few questions via email.

Is this your first solo art exhibit?

Luke Haines: Yep. First solo exhibition. I’m pleased it’s in the north—away from curators and the dull art people.

Tell me about the Fall Xmas tree?

I’d painted a MES bauble for a friend’s Xmas present. The obvious next stage was to paint every member of the Fall, but I had no reason to embark on such a futile endeavour. Then the artist Neil McNally asked me if I wanted to have an exhibition. It was then that I realized it was time for the Fall Xmas tree.

I know that you’ve described your work as outsider art in the past, but with the Lou Reeds, the Hawkwind paintings, the Maoist Monkees—and of course the psychedelic wrestlers which refer to your own album—it seems more like you’re doing something more akin to “rock snob art”? How do you see it?

My stuff is more like sitcom art. I tend to do the same thing: put popular or unpopular culture figures in absurd situations. Like putting Hawkwind in a balloon carrying esoteric knowledge (The North Sea Scrolls) back to their squat in Ladbroke Grove. If Hawkwind actually did this the world would be improved immeasurably. In the show there are a couple of paintings depicting wrestlers having diabolical fever dreams about It’s A Royal Knockout. I’d like to do a whole art show about It’s A Royal Knockout. Maybe a straightforward reenactment.

How often are you asked to comment on the art of Ronnie Wood, Ringo Starr or Paul Stanley?

I think that worrying about pop stars inflicting their art on an ungrateful world will be the least of our problem post covid. There will a tsunami of ‘lockdown art washing up. It will all be terrible.
 

Mark E Smith Xmas tree bauble
 

The Fall Xmas Tree in situ.
 

Fall Xmas Tree (detail)
 

Liver Sausage (Mark “Rollerball” Rocco)
 

Brian Glover
 

Dickie Davies
 

 
Eston Arts Centre, 176 -178 High Street, Eston, Middlesbrough, TS6 9JA.

Posted by Richard Metzger
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07.09.2021
12:01 pm
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Classic horror films get the vintage comic book treatment by Spanish artist Nache Ramos


‘Long live the new flesh!’ A digital design based on David Cronenberg’s 1983 film ‘Videodrome.’
 
Outside of the fact that he is a talented artist with a deep love of classic 60s, 70s, and 80s horror, unfortunately, I do not know, nor was I able to dig much up on self-professed “comic enthusiast, music freak, horror lover, and videogame collector” Nache Ramos. But here’s what I do know. Ramos is based in Alcoli (or Alcoy), Spain where he has been a graphic designer and illustrator for over a decade. His art has been used to decorate snowboards made by Wi-Me Snowboards, and for Australian snowboard company Catalyst. In 2018, he won a Guns ‘N’ Roses contest which asked fans of the band (via Twitter), to create artwork based on their 1987 album Appetite for Destruction. Other than well-deserved accolades for his submission, I’m not sure what Ramos got as a prize, but I suppose gaining exposure to G’N'R’s 6+million Twitter followers is very much a good thing. This was also the same year Ramos moved from using traditional artistic mediums to creating his work digitally. This brings me to Nache’s nostalgic interpretations which infuse the look of old-school comic books with Ramos’ love of science fiction and horror films he grew up with.

Like any horror fan worth their VHS collection, Ramos digs the films of director John Carpenter and has created several digitally designed homages to Carpenter’s films in vintage comic book style. Others include David Cronenberg’s Videodrome (pictured at the top of this post), Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street, Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and Richard Donner’s bone-chilling 1976 film, The Omen. If this all sounds good to you (and it should), Ramos also accepts commissions via his Instagram. You can also pick up very reasonably-priced prints of Ramos’ super-cool fictional movie posters on his Red Bubble page. I myself picked up Nache’s take on Videodrome. Scroll on to see more of Ramos’ fantastic faux-vintage comics.
 

 

 

 

 
Much more after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Cherrybomb
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04.23.2021
10:31 am
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Firesign Theatre’s ‘Dope Humor of the Seventies’
03.28.2021
10:35 am
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“Discovering the Firesign Theatre is worse than trying to get into Frank Zappa for the first time.”

Anyone who has read this blog for any period of time knows that this is obviously not a place to read, you know, rock journalism. We don’t tend to review things, either. You’ll find scant “criticism” here. I see Dangerous Minds more as a repository of enthusiasm. We write about stuff we enjoy, in the hopes that our fervor will be contagious. “Here is this great thing, you should check it out” is more or less the editorial policy. We almost never write about things we hate. “Hey, smell this, it smells like shit.” There’s no point in that. We’re digital prospectors, panning for gold, not crap.

I’m certain that we’ve introduced our readers to new things that they, in turn, have become evangelists for over the decade plus since DM launched, because you tell us so in the comments. In many ways a DM blog post is like a conversation you might have in a record store. I see it that way. I’ve even had several small record label owners contact me and tell me that they’d put out this or that reissue of an obscure album that we had covered. And that’s fun for us to hear.

So if you are someone who has ever benefited from being introduced to something here that you developed an unhealthy obsession for, pay attention to this, won’t you? This is one of the best things, ever.

I discovered the Firesign Theatre when I was a ten-year-old in 1976, via a long forgotten nationally syndicated radio program called The Comedy Hour which was 60 minutes of short bits from comedy records that were interspersed with bursts of radio static, as if the station was being changed between each selection. It came on Sunday nights at 11pm, right after The King Biscuit Flower Hour, at least on the radio station that I heard it on, Pittsburgh’s WDRE 105.5 FM. The first time I listened to that show, they played an excerpt from the first Firesign Theatre record, Waiting for the Electrician or Someone Like Him, a section known as “Beat the Reaper.” This sketch involved a mock game show where contestants are injected with a fatal disease and have to guess what it is from the symptoms to win the life-saving antidote. If the contestant’s self-diagnosis is incorrect—sorry—they are sent home to die.
 

 
I had never heard anything like this. It made my young brain cells stand up to attention the same way hearing “Space Oddity” had the first time I’d heard that.

At the end of the show a zany announcer would tell you who you’d been listening to in a rapidly delivered cascade of names: “On tonight’s Comedy Hour, you heard Lenny Bruce, Albert Brooks, Nichols & May, Franklyn Ajaye, Beyond the Fringe, Moms Mabley, Robert Klein, George Carlin, the Conception Corporation, Jonathan Winters, Bob Newhart, Richard Pryor, Phyllis Diller…” etc., etc., and then he listed Firesign Theatre. I recognized this name since there were several Firesign Theatre albums selling for $1 each in the comedy cut out section of the local National Record Mart. Within a matter of days, I convinced my mother to buy me one titled, Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers.
 

 
I instantly became obsessed with that album. I would listen to it over and over again, often with headphones, trying to wrap my 10-year-old mind around it. I listened to Dwarf—and the other Firesign Theatre records—as much as I listened to any musical album. In fact, 45 years later, due to the innate musicality of the work, I still have large chunks of it committed to memory. In this, I am not alone, as there are probably several thousand other people (99% of them upper age bracket baby boomers) who can also recite Firesign Theatre albums as if they were Shakespeare. Dwarf begins with a sermon about food from a demented televangelist broadcasting from a biplane, which crashes. The scene pulls back and it’s a guy watching TV. He’s hungry and looking around for something to eat, but comes up short. He starts talking back to the manic TV evangelist who then starts talking back to him and eventually food comes through the TV screen. The channel changes abruptly. After that there is a This is Your Life-type program with elderly actor George Leroy Tirebiter, and then it morphs into a teen movie play-within-a-play starring a younger Tirebiter called “High School Madness.” Things were going just fine for the students of Morse Science High until their school vanishes, stolen by their rivals, those bullies at Communist Martyrs High School. Porgy Tirebiter and his loveable sidekick Mudhead investigate… you get the idea (hopefully).

Here is a very good description of Firesign Theatre, taken from the pages of Stereo Review magazine, way back in 1993. (Firesign has always been popular with audiophiles.)

A self-contained four-man comedy troupe of writers/actors whose medium was the audio record, they created brilliant, multi-layered surrealist satire out of science-fiction, TV, old movies, avant-garde drama and literature, outrageous punning, the political turmoil of the Sixties, the great shows of the Golden Age of Radio, the detritus of high and low culture (James Joyce meets the found poetry of used-car pitch men) and their own intuitive understanding of the technological possibilities of multi-track recording. Their thirteen albums for CBS, recorded in various group permutations between 1967 and 1975, reveal them to have been at once the Beatles of comedy, the counter-cultural Lewis Carroll, and the slightly cracked step-children of Kafka, Bob and Ray, Jorge Luis Borges, Philip K. Dick, Stan Freberg, Samuel Beckett and the Goon Show.

And as you’ll hear when you play the album you now hold in your hands, they were also far ahead of their time, not just of it. In fact, while most self-consciously “hip” comedy from the late Sixties or early Seventies is as dated now as love beads and black-light posters (listened to Cheech and Chong lately?) The Firesign Theatre, satire - which dealt from the beginning with such unexpected subjects as the implication of cable network narrow-casting (“UTV! For You, the Viewer!”) or New Age pseudo-philosophy (one of their albums was called Everything You Know Is Wrong) - today seems eerily prophetic. In particular, the futuristic vision of Los Angeles - sprawling, fragmented, fear-ridden, multi-cultural, both low rent and high tech - that threads throughout their “oeuvre” (in particular their 1970 masterpiece, Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers) is not only as poetically detailed as anything in Raymond Chandler, but chillingly on the money in 1993.

Firesign Theatre started to assemble during 1966 at KPFK, a freeform stereo FM radio station in Los Angeles, which was then a very new thing, during Peter Bergman’s “Radio Free Oz” show. Phil Austin and David Ossman worked at the station and would appear on RFO, while Philip Proctor, an actor friend the “Wizard of Oz” (Bergman) knew from Yale, was invited to join a bit later. The name refers to the fact that all four were born under fire signs in the zodiac, and to Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre. The late night Radio Free Oz show was so popular—and they were regularly gigging in Hollywood’s folk and rock clubs—that they were quickly offered a record contract.
 

 
There are four undisputed “classics” in the vast Firesign canon, all recorded between 1967 and 1971, titled (in order) Waiting for the Electrician or Someone Like Him, How Can You Be in Two Places at Once When You’re Not Anywhere at All (which includes their most famous creation, “The Adventures of Nick Danger, Third Eye”), Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers, and I Think We’re All Bozos on This Bus. Their first album was recorded in the same CBS radio studio where The Jack Benny Show was taped using vintage microphones and sound effects. By the time of their second record they were using 16-track tape machines in the studio, constructing tightly assembled radio plays with extremely creative sound effects and spatial cues that suggested time travel, watching something at a domed planetarium, being on a people mover, getting into a car where the inside is bigger than the outside and so on. These four records are the ultimate presentation of their unusual artform—literature as much as performed comedy that’s been carefully sculpted in a recording studio—but there are at least 20 other albums, dozens upon dozens of hours of live performances recorded onstage and during their radio shows, and TV and film work. Dear Friends, a 1972 released two record compilation of the best of their syndicated radio show of the same name is also considered to be a classic Firesign album, but being culled from live radio, it’s less elaborately constructed, and more spontaneous and improvisational.

These five albums represent the cream of the crop and they are all masterworks of surrealist “theater of the mind” sci-fi counterculture comedy. There was nothing else like them, and the sole thing I can think of to compare them to would be the Monty Python albums. Firesign Theatre were often called “the American Monty Python,” but this comparison would stop at the Python albums, as Firesign were a strictly audio proposition for the most part, and certainly during their late 60s/early 70s golden years. [They are actually much more akin to lysergic Goon Show, of which all four of the Firesign Theatre were fanatical fans. In fact, Peter Bergman wrote some TV comedy sketches in London with Spike Milligan in the early 1960s.]
 

 
A key element to appreciate in Firesign Theatre is how multi-leveled their humor is. For instance, in their famous “Nick Danger” piece, they constantly drop in references to Beatles lyrics such as Danger describing his old flame, Betty Jo Bialosky, who used several aliases—Melanie Haber, Audrey Farber, and Susan Underhill—but “everyone knew her as Nancy” or creepy butler Catherwood walking out of earshot singing “I’m so tired, I haven’t slept a wink.” If you had never even heard of the White Album, these jokes were no less funny, but if you were really in on it, you knew how densely-layered all of this was. “Joycean” is an adjective often employed to describe Firesign, an observation no doubt inspired by the way Molly Bloom’s soliloquy from Ulysses was put into the mouth of manic used car salesman Ralph Spoilsport in his weird rap at the very end of How Can You Be in Two Places at Once When You’re Not Anywhere at All. The relationship of Firesign Theatre to James Joyce’s work is not glib, or overstated. I like to think of the classic FT albums in the same way I regard Joyce’s published books. When airchecks of their (some thought lost) radio shows were collected in the essential Duke of Madness Motors book, I saw this as being analogous to discovering a full trunk of the avant-garde modernist Irish bard’s notebooks. A hundred years from now there will still be graduate students studying the multiple levels of meaning in Joyce and in Firesign Theatre albums.

Did I mention that Firesign Theatre is comedy for smart people? I can’t imagine a dummy even being able to make heads or tails out of it, let alone thinking it was funny. Comedy is almost always made by intelligent people, but theirs was the most intellectual comedy ever made, by some measure. Fifty years later, with all of the comedy that’s washed under the bridge since then, not a single thing—seriously nothing—compares to what Firesign Theatre created. It’s just that distinctive. Their artform cannot be duplicated. Theirs is a uniquely American artform, one that is recognized by the National Registry, and it is theirs alone. Their archive is now housed by the Library of Congress.

Regrettably it’s not that easy to convince people—and I’m talking about one-on-one with friends of mine—to want to get into 50-year-old comedy albums. No one seems to have the attention span. They think it will be dated, but for the most part Firesign Theatre exists in a much more hermetically-sealed and self-referential space than most comedy. There are very, very few outdated cultural references (even in the radio shows), nods to topical events or names that would fail to ring a bell, and 98% of it is as fresh today as it was in 1971. Comedy usually ages very poorly, but this is not the case with Firesign Theatre. A bright 20-year-old armed with an occasional look at Wikipedia would get the vast majority of the jokes, no problem. (As a testament to the long shelf life of their work, there was a fairly recent-ish weekly show of vintage Firesign Theatre radio on WFMU, during drive-time even. It’s evergreen material, I promise you.)

Over the years I have attempted to attract so many converts to the genius of Firesign Theatre, and almost always I have failed. I tend to send out this short clip, of Phil Proctor utterly destroying the rest of them in “The Chinchilla Show.”
 

 
[Peter Bergman told me that crazed scenario which I hoped you listened to above, came out of Phil Proctor’s head almost completely spontaneously! The rest of them were just trying to keep up with him. Phil is still like that, btw. When I first met him he told me the story of how he was made an honorary “Kentucky colonel” by the governor of the state while he was attending the Kentucky Derby, and within a matter of two minutes, I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes.]

I was able to convince my wife to listen to the four classic Firesign Theatre albums when heavy snowfall saw us (literally) stuck at home for two days, unable to leave. We got high, turned the lights down and listened. She enjoyed all four and told me that she was glad she’d been exposed to it (which was amazingly gratifying to me, I must say.) My other trick is whenever someone is passing through town during a road trip, I’ll burn them some Firesign on a CD-r and tell them not to listen to it until after it’s dark.
 

The back of the ‘How Can You Be in Two Places at Once’ album cover.
 
Sadly, my enthusiastic entreaties have invariably fallen upon deaf ears. Most people suppose it’s some sort of 1940s radio show that I am trying to get them to listen to. “Firesign Theatre? Sounds like some old-timey thing.” With others it’s the attention span thing, not enough hours in the day to listen to an hour (gasp!) of spoken word. It recently occurred to me to compare Firesign’s vast oeuvre to podcasts. These days, everybody is always listening to their favorite podcasts, at the gym, in the car, cooking, whatever, they’ve all got a podcast going on in the background. Why not think of the Firesign oeuvre as the greatest comedy podcast ever made?

Well, you’re in luck as all of the major (and much of the minor) works of Firesign Theatre are streaming from the exact same sources as that weekly true crime thing you always listen to. Spotify, TIDAL, YouTube, Amazon Music, Apple Music, all of them are pumping Firesign Theatre directly into your home. The four (or five) classic albums are super easy for you to listen to. Just a few clicks away from where you are reading this…

If any of this has sounded tempting to you, I suggest listening, preferably in the dark, or better still in the dark with headphones on, and stoned as fuck. If not then Firesign is perfect during your commute. Or when you are painting or doing the gardening. The point is that you MUST PAY ATTENTION or you will be lost. Immediately. You cannot multitask. You can’t surf the internet. You can’t be on Twitter or texting. If you don’t pay attention, not only would it be confusing, it would be annoying. I suggest starting where I did, with Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers. Or maybe with “The Further Adventures of Nick Danger, Third Eye.” After that listen to Electrician, the album-length Bozos and the Dear Friends radio show compilation.
 

 
For more advanced Fireheads, there’s a brand new release—the first on vinyl in 35 years—titled Dope Humor of the Seventies. The handsomely designed two-record set—produced by longtime Firesign Theatre associate, my pal Taylor Jessen—includes 83 minutes of material, with a further hour or so that can be downloaded online, or streamed at all of the usual places. The collection was culled from their Dear Friends, Let’s Eat and The Firesign Theatre Radio Hour Hour series, and there’s an insert with excellent liner notes that begins with the (absolutely true) statement I quoted at the start: “Discovering the Firesign Theatre is worse than trying to get into Frank Zappa for the first time.” Yes, it might seem daunting that there are well over 100 hours of Firesign Theatre to wade through, but if you think of these albums and radio shows the same way you think about podcasts, and you start with what I suggest, you might just discover something that you’ll obsess over for the rest of your life. I reckon that a high percentage of you who have read this far will be wondering “where has this been all my life?” unless you are already a Firesign Theatre fan, of course,

Seriously, just spark one up, turn out the lights and listen to this. Do it. Do it now…
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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03.28.2021
10:35 am
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