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Connect the snotty dots in the ‘Punk Rock Fun Time Activity Book’
10:32 am



Draw the grafitti on CBGB's bathroom walls!
Draw the graffiti on CBGB’s bathroom walls (or Joey Ramone taking a piss?) in the Punk Rock Fun Time Activity Book!
Many of you Dangerous Minds readers have likely noticed that coloring books marketed to adults has become kind of a huge “thing” over the last couple of years. The fact is that adult-oriented coloring books are not a new thing by any means and their history dates back to the early 60s.
JFK Adult Coloring Book by Mort Drucker, 1962
JFK Coloring Book by Mort Drucker, 1962
In 1962, a coloring book by Mort Drucker (a cartoonist and illustrator for MAD magazine for over 50 years) published the beautifully satirical JFK Coloring Book. Drucker’s book spent fourteen weeks at the number one spot on the New York Times bestseller list. Sales of adult coloring books skyrocketed to one-million dollars that very same year.
Match the band to its logo!
FIx Siouxie's FACE!
I myself am a fan of coloring books and can attest that the pursuit is really quite fucking relaxing and devoid of any kind of stress. I’m an especially a big fan of the artist Aye Jay, who has several super cool coloring/activity books out there like my personal favorite, the Heavy Metal Fun Time Activity Book which garnered praise from the late Ronnie James Dio who said “At last, an activity book for metal heads.”
Connect the Velvet Dots!
Complete the lyrics to
Give Henry Rollins his tattoos back
Another excellent addition to Aye Jay’s ever growing catalog is the topic of this post, the Punk Rock Fun Time Activity Book. I mean, I can’t think of many things more fun than spending an hour decorating the bathroom of CBGB’s the way I (mostly) remember it or putting massive amounts of eyeliner on Siouxsie Sioux’s makeup-free face. Can you? Punk Rock Fun Time Activity Book retails for $9.95, get it here.

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg: The Clash’s alternate version of ‘Combat Rock’
11:08 am



It was 1981, and looking to soak up some revolutionary—and authentically countercultural—inspiration, The Clash recorded what would become their fifth album, Combat Rock in Frestonia,” the 1.8 acre “free state” of London’s Notting Hill district, that attempted to (or did, depending on how you look at it) secede from the UK in 1977. 

The album, conceived to be a 2-LP set hot on the heels of Sandinista‘s epic three, was originally titled “Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg.” The band set up camp at The People’s Hall—the cultural center of Frestonian life—on Freston Road. Mick Jones did the first mix of the album, but the other band members were dissatisfied, and Glyn Johns (The Rolling Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, etc, etc) was brought in instead. Johns added some considerable muscle to the tracks and the album was pared down to the single LP, Combat Rock.

However, the “Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg” mixes done by Mick Jones are quite easy to find on the Internet, and in good quality, too. Here’s a sampling of what you can download for very little effort.

If ever there’s a musical artifact of the legendary tensions within the group, it’s this Mick-mixed version of “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” It’s more playful than the version we all know, sure, but there’s no way this would have ever become such a massive hit single in America.

Interesting to note how much this sounds like, ahem, Big Audio Dynamite, right?

The Jones-mixed “Straight To Hell” is a minute and a half longer than the Combat Rock version.
More after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
‘80s goths spied dancing in their natural habitats
08:54 am

Pop Culture


I always get a little excited when I run across some previously unseen vintage footage of dancing goths that has bubbled up to the surface. There doesn’t seem to be a great deal of documentation of early ‘80s goths dancing in their natural habitats. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that goths have traditionally been viewed as terrible dancers? We’ll just roll the footage and let our readers be the judge of that.

First up on this goth dancing hit parade is a clip which purports to be from 1983. The song in the clip is the extended single mix of The Cure’s “Let’s Go To Bed” which was released in 1982. Unfortunately the upload doesn’t offer more info as to the location of the club. If anyone knows, please comment. Some of the outfits here are wonderfully racy.

More dancing goths from the 1980s, after the jump…

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
What could possibly be worse than a CBGBs theme restaurant? THIS.
11:45 am



You’ve all probably read by now that Newark Airport is about to open a branded CBGB restaurant. The menu has typical bar food fare (maybe a cut above) and presumably has typical airport pricing for comestibles; the existence of a $42 prime rib on the menu should tell most of what you need to know. The joint will be called the CBGB L.A.B. (Lounge and Bar) and will serve “American fare in a fun environment recalling the legendary music venue.” The chef is Harold Moore, who according to Rolling Stone “runs the comparatively upscale New York City eatery Commerce,” but Commerce closed last July.

The menu includes an item “Harold’s World Famous Chili,” which Rolling Stone inexplicably regards as a “nod” to Hilly’s Chili, which, given that the name “Hilly” stood for Hillel and not Harold, seems like a stretch. On the subject of Hilly’s Chili I shall allow Binky Philips, of the Planets, who opened for the Ramones at CBGB’s, to elucidate you in this excerpt from his ebook My Life in the Ghost of Planets: The Story of a CBGB Almost-Was ($1.99 Kindle):

Back then, the older folkie fella, who turned out to be the owner, Hilly Kristal, was serving food. I tried the burger first. Wow, pretty good! A week later, I decided to try “Hilly’s Chili.” It was fantastic! In fact, it was so good, I walked back to the kitchen to tell Hilly how much I liked it. He was standing there, in his red plaid wool coat, slowly stirring an industrial sized pot of the chili as if in a trance. And, with Hilly obviously oblivious, about a foot behind his right boot was a fresh and wet pile of dog shit, about the size and shape of half a cantaloupe.

Here’s a shiny, happy facsimile of the familiar awning:

Several months ago, eagle-eyed Twitter user Proof of Use spotted this suggestive bit of legal gobbledygook involving the “usable nonuse explanation” of the lawful paths open to the undisclosed holding company that owns the rights to the CBGB’s name in the wake of the passing of Hilly Kristal.


Upon information and belief, use of the registered mark in connection with the registered services ceased approximately 7 years ago, contemporaneous with the death of Hilly Kristal, the founder of the famous CBGB club in the lower Manhattan. On May 21, 2012, registrant acquired the registered mark from the estate of Mr. Kristal, and during the ensuing period the mark has not yet been used by the registrant in connection with the registered services. The registrant has, however, been working with OTG Management to create a CBGB-branded restaurant and bar in the United Airlines terminal—Terminal C—in Newark Liberty Airport. ... there is currently a space in the terminal reserved for a CBGB restaurant and bar. ... the registrant anticipates that the mark will be back in use in U.S. commerce in connection with the registered services in 2015.

The reader will notice that they just came in under the wire, as being in the news during the calendar year 2015 as an operating entity. I don’t know the details, but I’d bet anything that the holding company is required or heavily incentivized to have the CBGB trademark put to use before a certain set number of years had elapsed or they would lose it.

Here’s Gothamist’s final word on the subject: “We hear it may be opening by the end of the year.” Exactly. That’s not a coincidence, goes my wager.

This restaurant was probably just going to be called L.A.B at one point. I mean why Newark airport of all places for a CBGB-themed eatery? And as anyone who ever stepped foot in the joint can tell you, “germy” would be one of the very first words that would come to mind to describe CBs. The last time I was at CBGBs someone had kicked the urinal off the wall and the toilet was overflowing. Not pretty. As for eating there? This only makes sense in the context of a “use it or lose it” trademark extension.

But just when you’re thinking what a fucking lame idea this is, here’s something even worse: In 1991, future jailed pedophile and rapist Gary Glitter, once one of Britain’s most beloved entertainers, now a figure of public hate, opened The Glitter Bar in London’s Piccadilly Circus (which is some prime real estate, obviously). All of the waitresses were 12-year-old Vietnamese girls in lingerie (okay I just made that last bit up). Here’s footage of “the Leader of the Snacks” at the restaurant’s opening. At about seven minutes in, Glitter shows up and bumps and grinds to his own music, stuffed into his 70s stage clothes like a noncey sausage.

Mercifully the Glitter Bar closed just a few years later, not long before Glitter infamously took his computer full of kiddie porn to be repaired.

via WFMU/Nick Abrahams

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
Punk doggies, punk kitties, and their friends the punk rat and the skinhead cat
09:17 am



We live in an age where the majority of world knowledge is accessible via a few keystrokes. It’s truly an amazing time wherein the Internet grants us nearly limitless access to the full wisdom of recorded human history and thought.

But more often than not, we just want to look at cute animal pix.

Tumblr page Animals in Punk Vests, home to only the punkest furbabies, is our supplier today. The collected philosophies of the great thinkers of the modern world will have to wait. We have animals in punk vests.

Punx is doggies.

Punx is kitties.

And don’t overlook their friends the punk rat and the skinhead cat…



More Animals in Punk Vests after the jump…

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
Sid Vicious’ handwritten list of ‘What Makes Nancy So Great’
09:24 am



In 1978, a 20-year-old Sid Vicious made a list in numerical order naming all of his American girlfriend Nancy Spungen’s “great” qualities. A few months after this list was penned, Spungen, a diagnosed schizophrenic dubbed “Nauseating Nancy” by the British music press, was found stabbed to death in the Chelsea Hotel on October 12. Sid Vicious was the main person of interest in her death, but died himself of a heroin overdose on February 2, 1979.

What Makes Nancy So Great By Sidney

1 Beautiful
2 Sexy
3 Beautiful figure
4 Great sense of humour
5 Makes extremely interesting conversation
6 Witty
7 Has beautiful eyes
8 Has fab taste in clothes
9 Has the most beautiful wet pussy in the world
10 Even has sexy feet
11 Is extremely smart
12 A great Hustler


Posted by Tara McGinley | Leave a comment
Three mega-rare Black Flag videos see the light of day—watch them here now
09:15 am



Greg, Anthony, Kira and Henry of Black Flag
Black Flag was the band that got me into punk, or “hardcore” if you insist (back then the terms were interchangeable).

My War is my go-to record to this day when normal life goes to shitsville. In what I hope wasn’t too fanboyish of a moment, I once told Rollins to his face that I’d gladly toss every one of the records in my (stupidly extensive) collection if I were allowed to keep My Warand I wasn’t lying. It’s simply a record that was there for me every time I needed it. Sometimes a record finds you at the right place and time in your life, and you make an emotional connection with it—for me My War was that record and Black Flag was that band.

In the late ‘80s and early ‘90s I got heavily into the VHS tape-trading scene and was able to acquire pretty much everything that existed as far as live documentations of Black Flag—or so I thought. With the advent of YouTube, so much more has come to the surface. I’m constantly surprised by what bubbles up.

I recently ran across three killer live Black Flag videos I had no prior knowledge of. The videos are from May 31st, 1982 at “My Father’s Place” in Roslyn, New York; April 9th, 1984 in Richmond, Virginia; and October 19th, 1984 at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, New Jersey.

Shout out to Internet saint anonym0us2112 for uploading these and a number of other excellent music videos.

The quality varies a bit on these shows; the sound is OKayyyy for ‘80s video recordings, but the picture quality is decent. The Richmond show, in particular, looks as if it’s from a fairly low-generation source. These certainly wouldn’t be the ideal introductions to the group for a first-time listener, but for die-hard fans this is pure gold.

Black Flag’s guitarist, Greg Ginn, is notorious for having content removed from YouTube so watch these while you can—soak in every Rollins pelvic gyration and brow furrowing before the YouTube police get involved. Incredibly, these videos have been online for seven months, but as of this writing the three clips have less than 2,500 total views combined. I suspect that’s going to change today.

All three after the jump. Watch ‘em while you still can…

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
‘Punk Rock’: Porno and New York City punk collide in this gritty 1977 X-rated crime drama
04:02 pm



Poster Art for Punk Rock
Mixing a 1940’s style noir detective film with the grittiness of mid 1970’s New York City is the peanut butter firmly engulfed in the sleaziest of chocolate. Throw in the then still-fresh punk movement and you will have the bittersweet treat of Carter Stevens’ 1977 film Punk Rock. Wade Nichols aka Dennis Parker, whom would go on to both disco cult fame with his 1979 song “Like an Eagle” (courtesy of Neil Bogart’s Casablanca Records) and for appearing on the soap opera The Edge of Night for a number of years, stars as ex-cop and current gumshoe Jimmy Dillinger. His most recent case involves finding Jenny (Susaye London), whose rich family have been looking high and low for her. Jimmy has found her—oh, has he found her, six ways to Sunday—but as soon as his back is turned, she is kidnapped yet again. With the friendly dame on his conscience and her wealthy daddy still footing the bill, he has got to find her again and soon.
Wade Nichols is gumshoe Jimmy Dillinger
Someone is clearly really wanting Jenny back and this second time around puts the hard-bitten with a heart of semi-precious gold Dillinger on a trail brimming with forced prostitution, junk, punk rock music and the oldest trick in the world—-the unforeseen double cross. Don’t worry. In this age of fast-food information and meme-blips, I refuse to spoil the ending of this impactive film. Shouldn’t your eyes be pure for something in this age of “if it bleeds, it leads?” Our souls might be a lost cause, but at least your peepers can be clean for this. It’s one hell of a surprise ending.
Elda Stiletto in Punk Rock
Punk Rock works on two different but very key levels. The first one is the fact that it succeeds as an unlikely but tight retro-noir-punk-rock hybrid. It has all the right crime elements, even involving a girl-sex-ring led by a whip-wielding musician/pimp played by none other than Elda Gentile aka Elda Stiletto from Elda & the Stilettos! (A group that is probably better known now for once featuring a pre-Blondie Debbie Harry and Chris Stein. According to director Stevens, Harry was initially considered for the part, but took a pass.) There are truly grimy-looking drug pushers, suave pseudo-old-world-mobsters and one really fantastic underworld figure named Igor, played fabulously by Bobby Astyr. Talk about used-car-dealer meets pimp-goombah-sleazeball charm, Astyr is all of this and more.

At the center is Wade Nichols, whose old school matinee idol good looks and acting chops made him a perfect private detective fit for the 1940s meets 1970s. Nichols innate charisma and strong masculinity without being too macho, were traits that fit him into this role like a glove. Robert Kerman, billed here as Richard Bolla, is also good as the wise-ass police inspector foil to Nichols’ Dillinger.
Dillingers confronts a pusher at Max's Kansas City
The second level is a fascinating historical peek into a New York City pre-gentrification, pre-Guiliani and pre-gummed up TGIFridays/Disney Store neon hell. Grime, trash and dirty melting piles of snow line the streets and even the legit storefronts look grungy. 42nd Street is shown in all of its electric candy store of sordid delights glory and thrumming with pure mutherfucking vice. Even better is you get an inside peek of one of the birth places of New York punk, Max’s Kansas City, a club so great that Jayne County once wrote a song about it!
Welcome to Vice
In fact, it’s the scenes set in Max’s that are the most historically important, especially for a music fan. In Punk Rock, we get to see three different bands play. The first two acts, The Squirrels (no relation, from what I can tell, to the Seattle novelty band of the same name), The Spicy Bits (a super obscure band from the scene that did at least warrant a name check in Dead Boys’ guitarist Cheetah Chrome‘s autobiography) and most importantly, The Fast. Every movement has its stars that should have and could have made it huge, but yet, never quite did. The Fast not being household names then or now is still a smear of injustice on the music industry. (And trust me, that’s a structure that has more stains on it than a port-o-potty on the last day of Sturges.) Formed by brothers Armand aka Mandy and Miki Zone and later on joined by their younger brother Paul, The Fast were a power-pop band with a punk/hard rock edge whose energy, stage presence and bizarro rock image set them apart from anyone else on the scene. Need proof? Watch their renditions of “Kids Just Wanna Dance” and “Boys Will Be Boys” in Punk Rock. (Plus, the latter features the most rock & roll use of Cheerios, ever.)
The Fast with Miki, Paul & Mandy Zone.
Interesting note about Punk Rock is that there is an X-rated cut where instead of the musical sequences, you get explicit sex scenes. Not to underrate the joie de vivre of things like visual insertion, I would still take The Fast over that any day. Though that said, this film is proof that directors and actors from the X-rated world could act and make a pretty great little film if they wanted to. It’s not all pizza delivery boys and horny housewives.
Watch the scene from ‘Punk Rock’ with The Fast, after the jump…

Posted by Heather Drain | Leave a comment
Disco’s Out…Murder’s In!’: The unsparing memoir of a punk rock killer
11:22 am



Punk rock documentia—and there’s been a ton of it lately, revisiting crucial scenes now that their prime movers are approaching old age—has overwhelmingly tended to focus on the reminiscences of musicians whose importance has survived multiple generations of fan consensus. Thus we get Rollins, MacKaye, and later arrival Grohl in every fucking documentary ad infinitum. (The Hard Times nailed this perfectly.) But obviously there was so much more to punk and hardcore than precious drops of received wisdom from the revered Elders of D.C., and it’s becoming increasingly rare to hear those other perspectives, from the ordinary fans and alienated kids who truly comprised the movement.

Of course, the record hasn’t been written entirely without fan perspectives; who could forget the interviews that opened The Decline Of Western Civilization? And punk kids of all backgrounds were routinely trotted out as exotica talk-show fodder throughout the ‘80s, much of which material survives on YouTube. But Disco’s Out…Murder’s In!, a new book by Heath Mattioli and David Spacone, has gone a step beyond. They’ve located and produced a memoir with an L.A. hardcore scene habitué whose story is uniquely compelling—a chieftain in one of the ultra-violent gangs that turned that city’s music scene into a war zone.

Fittingly for an L.A. hardcore memoir, Disco’s Out…Murder’s In! features Raymond Pettibon cover art, but its contents aren’t as easy to take as a Black Flag album. It’s told in a first-person narrative by its subject, “Frank the Shank,” a punk kid who rose through the leadership ranks of the La Mirada Punks (LMP) street gang in early ’80s Los Angeles. When the book reaches the point where Frank’s career approaches its peak, it regales the reader with unsparing descriptions of utterly mortifying and entirely senseless crimes—beatings, stabbings, shootings. This was one of the guys that literally ruined punk, transforming it—in L.A., at least—from a rebel youth culture and musical phenomenon into a serious threat to the lives of its participants. There are passages so viscerally revolting I actually reconsidered my opposition to the death penalty—fuxsakes, LMP stabbed a guy to death because his manner of dress was “too ska”—and yet I could not put the book down. It’s not just that there’s been no other punk document like this before; Frank’s story is riveting as a narrative of a dead-end kid searching for a place in the world, as a true crime story, as a serial killer’s candid confession, and as a dispatch from a largely uncharted shadow of American music.

In a revealing passage, Frank—not unlike a PTA mom or a tacky local news reporter, really—passes the blame for the violence off on the bands, for their violent imagery and harsh music. Later in the book, though, he does ultimately cop to his culpability:

Everybody was pointing fingers at the kids who lived brutally. Bands were upset over losing friends to the crusade, but still kept feeding it with their lyrics and sound, then wanted to cry about it? Every single band wound us up like A Clockwork Orange, yelling something violent and negative on every record. Was there one happy punk record? I don’t think so. Everyone in the scene dealt with some type of bloodshed. Most didn’t have a choice if they wanted to survive the hardcore punk scene in Los Angeles.

“Be an individual, don’t be a follower!”

Easy for you to say when you were protected on stage, or behind a typewriter, but the trenches were another story. And bottom line, we were the majority of the kids who bought tickets. Nearly all of you so-called musicians and punk rock scholars wouldn’t have lasted a minute.

If violence is art, then LMP was the Jackson Pollack of punk. Our victims, more often than not, wound up looking like one of his paintings … abstract expressions of red splatter on black cement. We definitely shared Pollack’s inability to take criticism with any sort of reasonable acceptance. How dare they! The audacity of fools, they had no idea of what we’d accomplished. —pp180-181

Too many people died at the hands of punk rock violence. I got lucky, some didn’t. As an ultra-violent punk rock gangster, I admit my part in ruining the scene. L.A. punk stood to be a magical moment of youth expression like no other and, for a little while, it undoubtedly was. The gangs ruined punk rock. I still have people telling me today that they quit punk because of LMP. Kids with talent in our scene expressed anger through music or art. We, on the other hand, took our rage and confusion out on the streets. I’m far from that person today, but as that famous Black Panther said, “Violence is as American as cherry pie.” —p222

Authors Mattioli and Spacone were gracious enough to spare us some time to discuss the impetus for the book and the process of crafting it:

Heath Mattioli: We had a friend who passed away, he was from a smaller punk rock gang called Lakewood Punks. His house was like a hub for dysfunctional kids, whether a punk rocker or a greaser or just some confused kid. It was a place to hang out, it had a skateboard ramp, and some LMP guys, Frank being one of them, would always go over there and hang out, and it turned out he was recruiting other guys, younger guys from these other gangs. And just hanging out with other punk rockers, talking music and pussy and whatnot, and that was where I initially met Frank. That was probably ’86.

David Spacone: If you went to punk shows you kind of needed to have backup. All of us that hung out at that house went to shows. Whether or not we participated in the whole gang thing, it really didn’t matter. As it says in the book, it was pretty dangerous, so those guys were always around at shows with us as well. That way nobody messed with us and we could just enjoy the music.

HM: I wasn’t really in the shit—a different type of shit, maybe? But I was a periphery guy, I listened to the music, but I wasn’t dedicated because I came from a more loving family, I couldn’t commit myself like these guys did, and if you wanted to be a “punk rocker” you had to put up with all that shit and I just wasn’t willing to do it. Dave was a little more in there.

DS: Yeah, I was more involved. It was OK to not be a punk rock gangster, but you had to have affiliates. But I just went to the shows for music. I was at the edge of the pit, and the gangsters were IN the pit.

Dangerous Minds: The book reads as a first-person narrative, so I take it it was written as an “as-told-to?” How much of the book, if any, represents your authorial voices, or was your function more conducting, transcribing, and editing interviews? Could you talk about your process?

HM: Our challenge was getting Frank to go back to that place mentally, to his youth. We weren’t interested in how he feels now, in hindsight. He’s a totally different guy. We didn’t want that, we wanted to hear how he felt in the moment. We would interview him in the middle of the night or early in the mornings, because he’s a graveyard shift worker. There would be times when he just didn’t want to get into it, and times where he’d talk for an hour. Answering your question of how much of us is in the book, we tried to live in Frank’s shoes and only speak the way he would speak. We had to tie things together and do our due diligence in talking to other people.

DS: What is us is how it’s stylized. We had to come up with a way for you to viscerally experience Frank’s journey through punk rock and being gangster #1.

Dangerous Minds: Frank describes active participation is some mighty repellent crimes. I’m curious how much of the specificity in his claims to criminal conduct might just be an old guy enjoying some attention and maybe exaggerating his “accomplishments?” How much is corroborated in terms of individual incidents described?

HM: The book is as close to how things went down as you could get without having a camera there. We were ferocious when it came to asking the same questions over and over, sometimes years apart, revisiting the same nights and making sure we were getting everything straight! We also asked other guys in the gang who were there, and stories were lining up. We had to dance around a little bit of the actual specifics of weaponry and maybe some street names.

DS: If you were around at the periphery at the time, all of these murders and other incidents that took place were all scuttlebutt. These were events we knew about from back in the day. Some of these stabbings and beatings and gang clashes were infamous

HM: We were bringing questions that we had as youths to the table, and Frank would say “Oh, you heard about that? Here’s how it went down…” I guess there weren’t a lot of rats in the punk world, so people hardly ever got brought in for questioning about these murders, and in Hollywood, and L.A. in general, it wasn’t patrolled like it is today, and there weren’t cameras everywhere, so these guys could do their dirty deeds and jump on the freeway and be home in bed pretty quickly after they killed somebody.

DS: One of the major reasons we wrote this book is that we were so familiar with the stories, and we knew that one day it all had to come to light. We ran into Frank all those years later, and his were the best stories to tell, he could tell the whole thing.

HM: We started out thinking we were gong to write about ALL of the punk gangs in L.A. at that time, but the more we talked to Frank, the more we realized his story was special, and so we decided to dedicate all our time to this one kid’s journey through the dark side of punk rock. So we ended up spending five years interviewing Frank. I couldn’t go to sleep so many nights after talking to Frank and hearing these horrific stories about these confused kids, who hated themselves and wanted everyone to feel what they felt. So now the reader gets to feel a little bit of that…

DS: The whole scene was really Clockwork Orange and we wanted to make the reader feel that.

Continues after the jump…

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
High-end plush dolls of Frank Zappa, Robert Smith, Kraftwerk, Jim Jarmusch & more, that you NEED!
10:39 am



Kraftwerk plush dolls by Uriel Valentin
Kraftwerk plush dolls by Uriel Valentin

Uriel Valentin is the talented Argentinian-based doll maker and artist behind a massive line of plush, hand-painted dolls that are about to send you running for your credit card. I often blog about these kinds of collectibles here on Dangerous Minds but didn’t know until today how much I needed a plush Robert Smith doll clad in look-alike pajamas like the ones that he wore in the 1989 video for “Lullaby.” Did you?
Robert Smith of The Cure in his Lullabye pajamas
Robert Smith of The Cure in his “Lullaby” PJs
Frank Zappa plush doll by Uriel Valentin
Frank Zappa in his iconic “PIPCO” shirt.
Among the illustrious and eclectic inhabitants of Valentin’s cool world are plush versions of everyone from famous punks like Elvis Costello, director Jim Jarmusch, Charlotte Gainsbourg (covered in blood clutching the disemboweled fox from Antichrist), Andy Warhol and Jean Basquiat (wearing boxing gloves and attire no less, as in the poster for their 1985 collaboration), Iron Maiden’s “Eddie” (as well as Maiden bassist Steve Harris, squeee!), two delightful versions of Robert Smith of The Cure and every member of fucking KRAFTWERK.

Valentin’s figures stand about fourteen inches tall, are hand-painted and sealed with a transparent acrylic varnish, and have wire inside of them so they are able to be put into posed positions. I’ve included over 40 (!) images of Valentin’s dolls for you to digest after the jump that will run you around $100 (including international shipping). The talented Argentinian also does custom orders (which are $115) - contact him via his Flickr page for more information.
Jim Jarmusch
Jim Jarmusch
Bette Davis and Joan Crawford from the 1962 film, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
Bette Davis and Joan Crawford from the 1962 film, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Hedwig (played by actor James Cameron Mitchell in the film and play Hedwig and the Angry Inch)
Hedwig as played by actor James Cameron Mitchell from Hedwig and the Angry Inch)
Way more of these amazing handmade dolls after the jump…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
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