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The little-known MAD magazine TV special, 1974
11.19.2013
03:51 pm
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MAD magazine was at the absolute height of its circulation in the mid 1970s—north of two million of each issue hit the newsstands then—so it was no surprise that television executives wanted in on the action. ABC ordered a pilot for an animated MAD series, but shelved it due to the “adult” humor and apparently because they didn’t want to piss off their bread and butter. Dick DeBartolo (“MAD’s maddest writer!”) said of the ill-fated pilot (eventually aired as a one-off “special” apparently) “Nobody wanted to sponsor a show that made fun of products that were advertised on TV, like car manufacturers.”

In the MAD TV special, the viewer is treated to on-screen adaptations of the work of Don Martin, Al Jafee, Antonio Prohias, Dave Berg and Mort Drucker. I’d rate this as “good” not “great” but it is interesting to see how MAD translated to the small screen and given a chance to develop, it could’ve been a classic of the era. Certainly it’s a fuck of a lot better than their terrible 1980 film, MAD Magazine’s Up The Academy, which is SO EGREGIOUSLY AWFUL that MAD publisher William Gaines actually paid $30,000 to have the MAD name taken off it (a bargain) before it started airing on cable!
 

 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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11.19.2013
03:51 pm
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‘Princely Toys’: Creepy toy documentary
11.19.2013
02:11 pm
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I first discovered the amazing 1976 BBC documentary Princely Toys—about the incredible antique automaton collection of a man named Jack Donovan—on an art film tracker with the description “creepy toy documentary.”

That seemed too good to pass up and I’m glad I didn’t. Princely Toys is an unexpected pleasure and, yes, it’s a little creepy (check out the animated smoking monkey doll dressed as Napoleon in the beginning or the doll hacking a woman’s bloody torso with a butcher knife) but mainly it’s just… really neat. The soundtrack is probably from a music library, but it’s a suitably weird synth-based Muzak-y sort of affair that fits perfectly with the dimly-lit footage of Donovan’s superb 19th century animated doll collection.

There’s next to no information about this doc online. After his death, much of Jack Donovan’s unique collection was apparently acquired by the York Automata Museum, and after that closed down, sold to a Japanese collector.
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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11.19.2013
02:11 pm
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‘I Feel Good’: James Brown’s amazing, drug-fueled CNN interview, 1988
11.19.2013
02:42 am
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When former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich was running around before his trial appearing on The Daily Show assuring Jon Stewart that he never, ever did anything wrong, he should have considered adopting the post-arrest media strategy of James Brown, as seen in this incredible interview. Considering that both Blagojevich and Brown ended up going to prison, it couldn’t have hurt! And James Brown is a hell of a lot more popular than Rod Blagojevich.

This interview on CNN’s Sonya Live! in LA occurred in May 1988, after Brown was arrested in Aiken County, South Carolina, on charges of drug possession and fleeing from the police after his wife Adrienne called 911 because he was threatening her safety. Brown was released after paying $24,000 in bail and then went to Atlanta to do this interview.

In the interview, Brown seems only dimly aware of Sonya Friedman’s questions, preferring to shout the lyrics to his songs and talk about how he “smells good ... and makes love good.” (The juxtaposition of Sonya’s “How did all this trouble begin?” and Brown’s non-sequitur answer—“Livin’ in America!”—is resonant in ways that utterly outstrip the meanings Brown may have had in mind.) If you want to see someone on TV being interviewed while high, you can hardly do better than James Brown. As in so many other things. Rod Blagojevich just wouldn’t be in the same league.

Brown’s incredible vitality is such that you’ll be excused for wondering whether this isn’t a concert appearance in addition to an interview. YouTube commenters and the like are given to identifying cocaine as the source of this live-wire act, but it was almost certainly PCP. His arrest was for possession of PCP, a substance Brown was allegedly using a lot at the time.

Just four months later, Brown was arrested again, this time on Interstate 20 (near the Georgia-South Carolina border) for carrying an unlicensed pistol and assaulting a police officer. He was sentenced to six years in prison and ended up serving three years.

To judge by R.J. Smith’s The One, Brown’s erratic conduct in the 1980s was going to land him in prison one way or another. Between 1984 and his September 1988 arrest, Adrienne Brown had to call 911 to report domestic violence a whopping twelve times.

As the undisputed father of funk, James Brown was one of the most important musicians of the twentieth century, and nobody was more electrifying live. This interview manages to be both highly amusing and a harbinger of the troubles that were just around the corner.
 

Posted by Martin Schneider
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11.19.2013
02:42 am
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Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan & John Cleese star in a ‘Goon Show’ TV special, 1968
11.18.2013
02:57 pm
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1111spikesellerssecombe121212.jpg
 
Peter Sellers once received a letter from a fan requesting a “singed photograph of yourself.” Sellers obliged, delicately burning the edges of a B&W 8x10 with a cigarette, before sending the portrait off. A week or so later, the fan wrote back asking Sellers if he would be so kind to send another photograph, as the last one was “signed” all around the edges.

This tale of probable dyslexia captures something of the humor of The Goon Show, that classic radio comedy series, which launched the careers of Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike Milligan.

With its unique brand of surreal humor, The Goon Show started modern British comedy and inspired generations of comic performers. It is difficult to imagine how Peter Cook, Firesign Theatre, Monty Python, The Bonzo Dog Band,  Eddie Izzard, and The Mighty Boosh would have developed their own particular brands of comedy without The Goons.

In 1968, eight years after The Goon Show had finished, Sellers, Milligan and Secombe reunited for a specially televised recording of one of their classic scripts “Tales of Men’s Shirts.”  The trio were ably joined by a young John Cleese as the program’s announcer. Though not as brilliant as the original radio production (the visuals distract from imagining the comedy, and Milligan and co. appear to be enjoying themselves a tad too much), there is, however, more than plenty to enjoy.
 
More from The Goons (& Cleese), plus bonus documentary, after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
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11.18.2013
02:57 pm
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‘Twin Peaks’-themed clothing
11.18.2013
10:36 am
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Fire Walk With Me - Dress

Suckers Apparel has a Twin Peaks-themed clothing line. A wee bit expensive for my tastes, but kind of fun nonetheless. There’s also “Who Killed Laura,” “8Bit Lodge,” and “Log Lady” leggings available for purchase.
 

Laura - Dress
 

Welcome To Twin Peaks - Dress
 

Smoking In The Girls Room - Cape
 

Posted by Tara McGinley
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11.18.2013
10:36 am
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NBC journalist says live on air: ‘Someone should sh*t in Sarah Palin’s mouth’
11.17.2013
04:23 pm
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As the editor of a blog that used to generate a lot of traffic with virtually any item, however small, that mocked Sarah Palin, believe me when I tell you that five years after her debut on the world stage, no one really cares that much about the snowbilly grifter anymore.

Not like they used to. Not even close.

Nope, an item on Sarah Palin will bring in a negligible amount of traffic, so little, in fact that it’s not even worth the effort anymore. “Sarah Palin does something stupid AGAIN” has stopped being effective as “click bait,” in the same way that “Glenn Beck says something outrageous AGAIN” has. Or “The 25 greatest moments from Murphy Brown” (as actually seen on Yahoo! earlier this week, I didn’t make that one up). Or whatever idiocy Ted Nugent is into. Who gives a shit about these assholes? No one does. At least our readers don’t. You let us know loud and clear how disinterested you are in these people and we see the evidence of this on Google Analytics, ChartBeat, and in Twitter, Facebook and Google+ shares.

Which brings up the question: Does a Sarah Palin appearance on The Today Show, or even Fox News, really bring in ANY extra eyeballs? Based on my own (admittedly left-leaning, but very large as these things go) control group, I’d have to wager that the answer is a definite “NO.” Going on what I’ve seen, she’s a total bust these days. Doesn’t move the needle on the traffic dial. Flatline. Nothing. Why do we still see her all the time saying “words” in the “lamestream media”? I honestly couldn’t tell you, but given that every newsgathering or content aggregating entity has access to the very same traffic measurement tools that I have, I don’t expect that she’s got much left cultural currency after this current round of “war against Christmas” media appearances to promote her new book that someone else wrote, for people who don’t read…

Having said all that, I certainly would have thought there would have been a terrific amount of interest in an NBC correspondent suggesting that Sarah Palin should have someone shit in her mouth and piss in her eyes, and this is exactly what Martin Bashir did in an MSNBC commentary segment on Friday that is, for the most part, only being discussed on the right.

How did this escape wider notice?

If you will hit play, you will see one of the most incendiary things I have ever seen someone say on a cable news channel about another person… ever.

Incendiary, sure, but I’d have to say… he’s right. Without further ado, here’s Martin Bashir saying what a lot of people think about Sarah Palin:
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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11.17.2013
04:23 pm
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Computer animated talking turds and more! Insane (and legendary) Japanese kids show, ‘Ugo Ugo Lhuga’
11.14.2013
10:08 pm
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When I was working in Tokyo in 1994, not unsurprisingly, I had a really hard time adjusting to the abrupt change in time zones. I’d wake up like a pinball machine at 3:00 AM and then I’d stay up. There wasn’t much at all on TV at night in Japan back then—a lot of “learn English” soap operas, basically, and CNN—but each morning at 7:30 AM or so, an absolutely amazing kids show came on Fuji TV that blew my doors off each time I watched it. Not that I had even the slightest idea of what was going on, of course, but it looked so incredible. There were two child actors, a boy (“Ugo Ugo-kun”) and a girl (“Luga Chan”), a French painter, talking tomatoes and oranges, a talking TV set, etc. Curiously there was also a character, Dr. Angrily, who was a talking turd who’d pop out of the toilet bowl and tell viewers it was going to rain (that much I could figure out).

Ugo Ugo Lhuga was a big-budget children’s program that adults liked too, similar to things like Do Not Adjust Your Set, Pee-wee’s Playhouse and Yo Gabba Gabba! Sometimes pop acts like Shonen Knife, Harumi Hosano of Yellow Magic Orchestra, Cornelius, Jamiroquai or Pizzicato Five appeared on the show. It was a mix of live action and frenetic computer animation, most of it done on a Commodore Amiga. I’ve read that the producers of the program developed special joystick controlled methods of getting the primitive CGI animation to “interact” with the live actors. Apparently they cranked this show out daily for a year and a half, the team who produced it must’ve been complete maniacs. Talk about burn out! Yikes!

Ugo Ugo Lhuga was a victim of the economy and Japan’s “lost decade” recession, but was fondly remembered. It wasn’t until 2007 that a DVD box set of Ugo Ugo Lhuga was released in Japan and now you can buy action figures of some of the characters, including the turd.
 

 
First watch this. You’ll be instantly pulverized by how utterly insane (and fearless) this show was…

 
Imagine something like that on TV in America. Kids would laugh like hell at it, but it will never happen.
 
Here’s a complete episode, taped off the air with commercials. This was only posted on YouTube three days ago:

 
Pizzicato Five on Ugo Ugo Lhuga after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Richard Metzger
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11.14.2013
10:08 pm
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Was The Kinks’ ‘Dead End Street’ promo film the world’s first ‘concept’ music video?
11.14.2013
04:01 pm
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I was thumbing through The Rolling Stone Book of Rock Video the other day when I came across a section near the end of the book in which the author, Michael Shore, isolates “Rock Video’s Hot 100.” This book was published in 1984, so the list is heavy on DEVO, Duran Duran, ABC, The Cars, and so forth. But before he gets to that list, Shore indulges in a modicum of throat-clearing, isolating fourteen videos from 1966-1979 to define the prehistory (i.e., pre-MTV) of rock video.

The first video Shore mentions is The Kinks’ “Dead End Street,” from 1966, which apparently did something novel for the time: it wasn’t just a straight-up lip sync performance, there was a concept and a narrative. (The Who’s “Happy Jack,” also 1966, is mentioned as well. I don’t know which video came first, but “Dead End Street” was released as a single a couple of weeks before “Happy Jack.” Come to think of it, “Happy Jack” and “Dead End Street” are awfully similar, considered solely as promo films.)

True to The Kinks’ undying interest in the antiquated past of the United Kingdom, both song and video for “Dead End Street” come about as close to Dickens as is credible for a charting rock band. In the black-and-white video, the Kinks play pallbearers tasked with delivering a coffin to a widow in one of London’s ramshackle slums. The widow, played by Ray Davies, is looking to evade her malign landlord, a pint-sized chap in a bowler who picks his nose. The widow is reluctant to leave her flat, and the landlord decides to wait it out. The pallbearers leave with the coffin, but eventually the corpse, wearing nightclothes and a nightcap, jumps out of the coffin and scampers down the street, with the pallbearers giving chase. The reanimated fellow vanishes in a bit of movie magic reminiscent of Georges Meliès, to the astonishment of the baffled pallbearers. 

The invocation of Meliès is far from an accident—the entire video is redolent of the melodrama of the silents, particularly the closeups of Davies as the widow. The video also includes two montages of stills with haunting photographs of impoverished British folks in the slums—to Davies, it was this focus on Britain’s poverty that made the video unacceptable to the BBC.

In Ray Davies: Not Like Everybody Else, Thomas M. Kitts lends some insight into the creation of the video as well as its reception:
 

The Kinks wanted to do something different to promote “Dead End Street.” Tired of the hackneyed lip-sync performance of Top of the Pops, Davies drew on his interest in film and his college experiences with Paul O’Dell to develop a promotional film, which Davies expected to air on British television.

-snip-

Unfortunately, after its screening, this remarkable three-and-one-half-minute film was banned by the BBC for being distasteful. With minimal controversy, the BBC could allude to the darkly humorous treatment of widows, pallbearers, coffins, and corpses. Perhaps, however, Davies surmised the true reason for the ban: “It showed slums and poverty and so they wouldn’t run it. I guess they prefer films about running around in parks, jumping over chairs.”

 
I assume that last line is a jab at The Beatles, but I don’t know for sure.

Any argument about the first conceptual music video will run aground on the endless prior instances one could care to name. Surely the list of possible candidates is long indeed. But for my money, there are few exemplars from the rock era that qualify as richly as the one The Kinks made for “Dead End Street.”
 

Posted by Martin Schneider
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11.14.2013
04:01 pm
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Anarchy in the UK (for real): British establishment’s fear of an ACTUAL punk rock revolution, 1977
11.14.2013
10:25 am
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If you want an idea just how seriously certain sections of the British Establishment feared Punk Rock then take a look at this incredible piece of archival television from 1977. It’s an edition of the BBC’s Brass Tacks—a current affairs series in which reporter Brian Trueman (perhaps better known now for those classic kids’ TV shows Chorlton and the Wheelies and Danger Mouse) introduced a brief film on Punk and then hosted a live studio debate between some of the youngsters featured in the piece—along with Buzzcocks’ Pete Shelley and Radio One DJ John Peel—arguing the toss with a selection of crusty town councillors, from London, Birmingham, Newcastle and Glasgow. These respectable citizens were out to ban Punk from various inner city venues. Add to this incendiary mix some comment from the press and a Pastor John Cooper, who wanted everyone to come to Jesus.

Okay, this all may sound like the comic ingredients to some grand mockumentary but these fears over the political aspect of Punk Rock and the potential for anarchy on the streets of Britain were very real at the time. As Brian Trueman says in his introduction:

“Punk Rock is more feared than Russian Communism.”

Why? What were these people thinking? What were they really scared of?

Well, to start at the beginning…

Britain in the 1970s was in a mess. It had high unemployment; three-day working weeks; nationwide power cuts that left everyone in the dark; taxation at astronomic levels; food shortages; endless strikes; and a crumbling infrastructure. All of this meant the Labour government feared a revolution was imminent.

To explain why this all came about let’s rewind the tape to a mass demonstration at Grosvenor Square, London, March 1968. This was where an anti-Vietnam War rally erupted into a pitched battle between protesters and police. Outside of the American Embassy 200 people were arrested; 86 were injured; 50 were taken to hospital, half of which were police officers. The Labour government were stunned that a group of protestors could cause such anarchy and disorder,—which (they believed) could have led to a mini-revolution on the streets of London.

In fear of revolution or such anarchy ever happening again, the government decided to take action. At first, ministers considered sending troops out into the streets. But after some reassuring words from Special Branch Chief Inspector Conrad Hepworth Dixon, they were convinced that the boys in blue could handle any civic disorder. Dixon was allowed to set up a new police force: the Special Demonstration Squad.

This was no ordinary police operation, the SDS had permission to be (quite literally) a law unto itself. Its officers could operate under deep cover. Infiltrate left-wing, fringe organizations and youth groups with the sole purpose of working as spies and agents provocateurs. Harold Wilson’s government agreed to pay for this operation directly out of Treasury funds.

The SDS carried on its undercover activities against any organization that they believed threatened Britain’s social order. This included unions, animal rights, anti-Nazi and anti-racist groups.

If that wasn’t worrying enough, the SDS were allegedly involved in the planting incendiary devices at branches of department store Debenhams in Luton, Harrow and Romford in 1987. It is also alleged, one member of the SDS was so deep undercover he was involved in writing the pamphlet that led to the famous “McLibel” trial of the 1990s.

The workings of the SDS were on a “need to know basis.” Only a handful of police knew exactly what this little club were up to. But their activities fuelled genuine fears amongst the British Establishment that there were “Reds under the beds,” and revolution was a literal stone’s throw away.

This was all going on behind-the-scenes. Out front, muppets like the councillors and journalists lined-up on this program, pushed the hysteria of Punk Rock riots and civil disobedience, that reflected the very genuine fears at the heart of the UK Establishment. (Note London councillor Bernard Brook-Partridge mention of “MI5 blacklists.”)

So, that’s the background to this fascinating archive of the year that politicians (and even the BBC) thought Punk Rock was a torch-bearer for bloody revolution.
 

Posted by Paul Gallagher
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11.14.2013
10:25 am
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Lou Reed’s sweet side: Behind the scenes of the ‘Transformer’ documentary
11.14.2013
07:51 am
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Guest contributor Henry Scott-Irvine shares his experience working with Lou Reed on the Classic Albums - Lou Reed: Transformer documentary:

In the summer of 2000 Series 3 of the Classic Albums documentary brand cranked into pre-production with a roster of some twelve shows. Four of these would air on ITV during the 2002 FIFA World Cup, including most notably “Transformer.” The TV schedules signaled that if the England game was delayed or moved Classic Albums’ Transformer would feature before or after an important game. With the play-offs split between South Korea and Japan, the “Transformer” transmission had a potentially vast audience during late night soccer primetime. I recall sitting in a room filled with friends at midnight on a Saturday in June 2002 when ten million Brits watched this marvelous ‘making of’ documentary.  Oh how Lou must have smiled.

The road to this TV success was not altogether smooth. Lou had a reputation for being notoriously difficult and was rumored to hate both journalists and film makers. This was evidenced by tales of his kicking over cameras during his UK performances in 1973. “So who writes these things about you, if they’re not true?” said an Australian journalist in 1974. “Journalists,” replied Lou dryly. Flying on to New Zealand, Lou found himself amid a televised press conference at the airport. “Why do you write songs about transsexuals? Are you a homosexual or a transsexual?” Lou mumbled, “Sometimes” and shrugged. He curtailed his first Australasian tour by flying straight back out of New Zealand without performing there.

As Classic Albums series 3 Archive Producer, I set about seeing if footage survived from the original studio sessions of December 1972 and from the Transformer world tour of 1973. Nothing transpired from the recording sessions, apart from the original 16 track 2 inch master tapes. However, wonderful hitherto unseen footage of “Walk On The Wild Side” survived from Paris in 1973. Filmed with only one camera from a balcony, Lou was wearing white Japanese Kabuki-style face paint with black eye shadow and a black leather suit. Lou feigned a shuffle-step dance, appearing to be slightly out of it, before stumbling to sit down in order to conclude the song. It sounds potentially disastrous, but it was mesmeric. We had to have it!

The Institute of National Archives, France, quoted an ‘all media non exclusive license deal’ of ‘10,000 Euros per minute’, immediately scuppering our plans.  Instead we opted for three ten second bursts of this footage. Belgian and American footage of the 1974 tour only contained below par audio and just one song from Transformer, as a consequence, Lou was informed of this before agreeing to give Classic Albums up to six one minute acoustic solo performances of his choice from the album. These would be performed live and filmed in New York in the early spring of 2001 when director Bob Smeaton flew out with a film crew to undertake the proceedings.

Photographer Mick Rock provided a whole bunch of his magnificent period pictures for an agreed fee, enabling some truly wonderful montage sequences, which brought the ‘making of’ Transformer to life when intercut with Lou and engineer Ken Scott listening to all of the original album parts. It seemed at that particular juncture that the film was on a win-win footing. But on the first day of interview filming in New York, Lou brought along the writer Timothy Greenfield-Sanders for moral support, and suggested that he be included in the film, which he was. There was a tension in the air at this point and Lou was quick to point out that Timothy was “an award winner.” Bob Smeaton quickly responded, “I’ve got two Grammy’s. One for The Beatles Anthology and one for Jimi Hendrix Live At Fillmore East.” This “impressed Lou,” alleged Bob.  A further day of interviewing took place as a result of this newly found mutual respect, during which time Lou recalled how people threw their handkerchiefs at The Beatles and their knickers at Tom Jones, “Whereas with me they threw syringes and joints”. This quote made it into the final cut, as did Lou’s concluding phrase, “Bob. It’s been a pure pleasure!”

Additional archive footage from the 1980’s was added to the documentary, and in late May 2001 Lou Reed was sent an ‘approval copy’ to assess. We waited several days without a response.  On May 30th 2001 I was alone in the production office at lunchtime when the production company telephone rang. A New York accent asked if this was “The Classic Albums people?” I was convinced that this was my friend John Brett, who can do a mean New York accent. “Is that you John?” I said. “Do I sound like a John?” said the voice at the other end. “This is Lou Reed. To whom do I have the pleasure?” I quickly explained that I was the Archive Producer. When Lou asked about the lack of archive in the rough cut, I explained about the ludicrous costs, and then cheekily recalled how he had often kicked over cameras when crews had filmed him back in 1973. “You’ve got a Noo Yawk attitude, old boy!” he said. I told him I’d never been there. He laughed dryly and quietly said, “Take a compliment, why don’t you?” adding, “D’you like your employers?” “No”, I replied, “Me neither”, he said. “So that makes two of us. See. I told you you’d got a New York attitude.” He laughed huskily and seemed genuinely amused at my insouciance. He told me he would be reporting to the “executives” later that day, “Or perhaps they could do me the courtesy?” he concluded.

The following day at the same time, 1pm sharp, Lou phoned the production offices once again and asked for “Henry.” Luckily I had picked up the phone. We chatted some more and laughed a lot. Lou was a little unhappy that the film crew had under lit his face, making him look like a cross between Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein and Vincent Price’s Dr Phibes (my description not his). He was also concerned about the sequence featuring a transvestite putting on makeup. “In the song “Make Up” somebody filmed a rather tepid and plain drag putting on makeup. Why not be the sports that you are and use someone beautiful? After all, the female on the back of Transformer really is a man, or didn’t you guys know? So let’s have a little glamor, eh! Tell that to Bob, old bean.” I wrote everything down and handed the notes to the director. The drag sequence was removed and replaced with a newly shot sequence. More of Lou’s “devastating wit” was included, and Lou’s magnificent craggy face remained as it was. Lou later wrote in to say, “I am impressed by how good and interesting the show is!” The film went on to receive worldwide praise, transmitting globally with DVD availability, too.

Some three years later I was producing the Fremantle documentary Punk Attittude and wanted to use some Lou Reed performances. In this instance I was meant to ask Lou Reed’s manager. But instead I wrote directly to Lou reminding him of the two conversations we had had in May 2001. Expecting no reply, he wrote back with, “Henry. How could I forget you old boy? Consider it done. Send me the license deal and I’ll write ‘Waiver. No fee applicable’.” Some weeks later, true to his word, the agreement was returned as promised. I kept these emails and my notes of the conversations we had had all those years ago tucked away in my DVD of Classic Albums’ Transformer.

I think Lou was really decent. He had a great dead pan sense of humor and he’d shared some of that with one of the production team when he didn’t have to. “How about that?” as he often said, how about that indeed!

The “Perfect Day” sequence from the Classic Albums: Transformer includes an interview with co-producer Mick Ronson which was an outtake from the BBC TV series Dancing In The Streets, a history of Rock Music from 1996. This was the last interview that Mick Ronson ever gave to camera and it was filmed inside the former Hammersmith Odeon, the venue where David Bowie (and Ronno) had done the final Ziggy Stardust performance in 1973.  Aware of the fact that it was Ronson’s final interview, and quite clearly touched by the beauty of the raw track separation, Lou was close to tears (this appears at the 43 minute mark of the documentary). Avoiding being mawkish, director Bob Smeaton trimmed that particular moment. But you can still see how affected Lou was. It is a window into the soul of the great man, and the finest sequence in a documentary that deserved to win a Grammy.

Producer/researcher Henry Scott-Irvine is the author of Procol Harum: The Ghosts Of A Whiter Shade of Pale published by Omnibus Press in the UK, America, and Canada.
 

 
“Walk On The Wild Side” - Paris, 1973.
 

Posted by Marc Campbell
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11.14.2013
07:51 am
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