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Is Creation Records teasing a Ride reunion?
07:16 am


Creation Records

The Creation Records Facebook page has cryptically posted this uncaptioned photo, originally Tweeted by Time Out Barcelona, and participants in a growing comment thread are speculating at its obvious meaning—could the groundbreaking UK shoegazers Ride be active again?

The banner appeared in Spain, leading to speculation that the band would at least appear at next year’s Primavera Sound festival. No performances have actually been announced, and the Creation web site and Ride’s own web site are both, as of this posting, silent on the matter. The band seems at one point to have been scheduled to reunite for the 2013 North by Northeast festival, but it doesn’t look like that happened: this where-they-are-now piece was published a month after that festival.

Formed in 1988, Ride early on released a string of three brilliant 1990 EPs, and their first two albums, Nowhere and Going Blank Again made them seem like something of a force of nature. I don’t vouch for the two LPs that followed, and the band fell apart in the mid ‘90s. But, since My Bloody Valentine, Swervedriver, and Slowdive have all champed at the reunion bit (Slowdive in particular quite brilliantly, I seriously hope everyone got to see one of those shows, because holy shit), it would seem an opportune time for an attempt at reconstituting Ride. Founding member Andy Bell never-say-never’d in an interview two years ago:

Bearing in mind the obvious impact of Ride’s music today, I guess the final question has to be do you ever see the four of you getting back together and playing one more time?

Well, never say never. We’re good friends now. We get together once a year and just have a few pints and whatever. We’re all pretty busy with what we’re doing, but personally, it would be a shame if we never got to play those songs one more time.

While you’re crossing your fingers, enjoy this vintage footage of Ride playing at the 1992 Reading Festival.

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Discussion
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Joan Jett and The Jam’s Paul Weller talk New Wave on ‘The Tomorrow Show,’ 1977

In October of 1977, Tom Snyder’s Tomorrow Show hosted one of US media’s early attempts at a thoughtful discussion of the then-new phenomena of punk and New Wave. Disappointingly, but still understandably, the discussion mostly features establishment figures, whose basic understanding of what was actually even happening varied wildly. Legendary concert promoter Bill Graham, perhaps unsurprisingly, doesn’t get it at all. He’s here representing the old guard, and all his knowledge of the new noise appears to derive from sensationalistic rumor, though at least he admits to limited first-hand knowledge. (At one point he talks about bands burning Stars of David and wearing KKK uniforms. Wuuuuuuuut?) Also unsurprisingly, LA Times music writer Robert Hilburn offers some of the most thoughtful and informed comments. The Runaways’ producer Kim Fowley is obviously approaching the discussion from a knowledgeable position, but he clowns around and snarks incessantly—he claims to see the trend-orientation of the discussion as a farce that diverts attention from the artistry of the bands and their music, but he’s hardly one to talk about that, now, is he? Though his remarks are often too insidery to actually be informative to the civilians watching this, at least he knows what makes for good TV.

B+ for effort, seriously, but it’s all pretty dry and speculative until the real marquee names arrive. You can see the beginnings of the discussion on YouTube in three parts (1) (2) (3), but it was really only once the RunawaysJoan Jett and the Jam’s Paul Weller joined the conversation that things got significantly more interesting and relevant. It’s one thing to hear oldsters blather on about music they’d never even heard (to his credit, Snyder came around to a deeper understanding of the stuff), and another to hear about the music from the people making it. And amusingly, after Jett and Weller started talking, everyone else’s comments improved. It’s a good deal harder to throw around bullshit about swastikas and self-mutilation when you’re talking face-to-face with thoughtful artists who defy the stereotypes you’ve been fed. Watch it here, it’s good stuff.

More after the jump…

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Discussion
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Clash manager Bernie Rhodes seeks young ‘Reb Rockers’ through his very ugly website
06:52 am


the Clash
Bernie Rhodes

Bernie Rhodes, Clash manager
If you’re a Clash fan who has 20 minutes to kill, check out the website of their former manager, Bernie Rhodes. It promises “Punk, pop philosophy, interesting stories, rare music and debate,” and delivers post-Situationist rants about the economic crisis, revisionist accounts of the punk years (“Many years ago under similar circumstances, I formed the Sex Pistols/Clash etc”), and a seriously busted web design that is a joy to behold. I think the reason the average page uses about thirty different fonts in about forty different colors is that it’s supposed to approximate Jamie Reid’s ransom-note typography, but what do I know? Rhodes says the site’s design is old-fashioned punk social realism: “So if it doesn’t flicker*flash*fast*, following the latest glitzy graphics, it’s as real life!” Wake up and smell the sans serif, you glitz-guzzling poseur!

In the “Did You Know” section, you’ll find a full-throated defense of the Clash’s almost universally despised final album, Cut the Crap:

1985’s “Cut The Crap” was the final album The Clash released. At the time the album received harsh reviews and the album sold less than expected. The original reviews are still remembered, and since relatively few people have actually heard the album, “Cut The Crap” has been unjustly neglected. This is, in fact, a solid punk masterpiece. It is what it was intended to be: an all-out return to the punk ethic that the band had recently been straying from. They perform with a raw aggression tempered with progressive musical growth; this is definitely a great band at work. The songs are all brilliant, addressing the political issues of the day exclusively (almost; a few copies of this have included their raucous, dirty cover of ‘Louie Louie’).

On the homepage, there’s a short URL reproduced as a graphic, so you have to type it into your browser.

This takes you to the single video YouTube user “Frank Fresh” has uploaded, a totally blown-out recording of the Clash’s “This Is England” overlaid with samples of Joe Strummer praising Rhodes. “I think it was good luck to meet Bernie, the best bit of luck I ever had,” Strummer says; this particular sample is repeated twice, in case you missed the point. Mr. Fresh uploaded this video yesterday (November 17).

A not-quite-subliminal message flashes toward the end of the video’s montage of council estates, Clash photos, pirate ships, motorcycles, and English celebrities:

Ouch. But the real scoop is that Rhodes is (I think) scouting fresh new talent! Alas, I am too old to take advantage of this exciting offer, but younger Dangerous Minds readers who have hot demo tapes and experienced lawyers on retainer might want to join Rhodes’ “Young Rockers Club.” He doesn’t promise fame or fortune, but how could he possibly pay worse than Spotify? If that’s even what this means?


Posted by Oliver Hall | Discussion
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‘The Ouija board told me I was going to die!’: Is this ‘News’ or merely entertainment?
06:12 am


Ouija board

Angela Jackson thought she wouldn’t be seen at the back of the packed hall. She wasn’t sure why she thought this, but felt, knew something was going to happen and she didn’t want anyone (anything) to see her.  Angela wasn’t sure why she had come to this spiritualist meeting, it was just something she thought would be fun, but now she was here she felt she was meant to be here.

Angela thought about her father Charlie, how once as a child she had dreamt that her father would be dead before Christmas. A month later Charlie was diagnosed with cancer and died soon after. If dreams do come true, then maybe nightmares also come true?

The whisper of voices stopped as a woman appeared on the stage. Angela hunched in her seat. The woman looked like she was sleepwalking, but her eyes were open, scanning the audience, looking for someone (something). Angela felt the woman looking, staring at her. How can she see me at the back? She squirmed. But the woman stared at Angela and began to sing:

Welcome to my world..

The room felt cold. No one laughed, no one coughed, no one whispered. The psychic continued:

Won’t you come on in…?

It should have been funny but still no one laughed. It seemed everyone was holding their breath. Angela knew the song—Jim Reeves “Welcome to My World,” it had been one of her father’s favorite songs.

Miracles I guess, Still happen now and then….

Angela looked up at the psychic on the stage, her mouth opening closing singing the words. As soon as their eyes met the woman stopped and said:

“Your dad has a warning for you. You’re thinking about using a Ouija board, but don’t. No good will come from it.”

It was true—Angela had been thinking of using a Ouija board, she knew that it was “risky because there was no knowing who you may connect with. Demons and evil spirits could get through too.” And that he father maybe knew this and was worried about “demons and evil spirits.” Maybe. Despite his warnings, Angela couldn’t get the idea out of her head—she developed a fascination with Ouija board. An idea once sown grows.

Angela from Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, Scotland, was telling her story to a reporter from the Sunday People newspaper. She sat at home, a cup of tea in her hand, thinking back to what had happened and the horrific events that followed.
One night, two of her neighbors had invited Angela over for drinks. The evening started well, but then the conversation shifted, moved, onto Angela’s favorite subject—the afterlife, and that’s when someone (who?) suggested they try the Ouija board.

“They’d obviously done it before because they pulled out a stack of homemade cards with letters of the alphabet and numbers written on them.”

Angela described to the newspaper how the room was lit by flickering candlelight and the three of them sat cross-legged on cushions around a make-shift Ouija board—which all sounds like the opening scene to a Hammer Horror movie, but let’s continue:

“My heart thudded with excitement as we all placed our index fingers lightly on the bottom of an upturned whisky glass they’d placed on the table.

“It began to pull in every direction. ‘Who is it you want to speak too?’ Robert, my neighbour, asked.

“The glass started moving towards the letters, spelling out… A-N-G-E-L-A.

“The spirit wanted to speak to me. But then it spelt out, ‘Die bitch’. ‘That’s not funny,’ I said. But Robert said, ‘Angela, we didn’t do anything.’ He snatched his finger back from the glass and we all shrieked as the living room door slammed shut on its own.

“My voice quivering, I asked, ‘Who are you?’ With only my finger on the glass it moved faster. ‘I was murdered,’ it scrawled. ‘Just like you’re going to be.’”

Angela asked again: “Who are you?”

This time the glass moved quickly spelling out the word: “S-A-T-A-N.” (Was Satan “murdered”? I wonder…)

Angela screamed, then shouted, “I’m not scared—to hell with you!”

The tumbler flew from the Ouija board and smashed against the living room wall. (Of course, it did…)

One of the neighbors jumped up and turned on the lights. “We should never do this again,” he said. There was a sense of fear, panic, as the candles were quickly snuffed out, thin black fingers of smoke reached up.

Though Angela was terrified, she needed to know more—she couldn’t stop now, she had to find out what was going to happen—she was the one who was going to be “murdered,” or so she believed. It preyed on her mind, festered, she had to know. Eventually they (who?) did try again, but this time there was no answer, no message, nothing. But still Angela couldn’t stop thinking about it. (Cue dramatic music…)

“Then one night I woke screaming and sweating from a terrible nightmare. I’d dreamt I was being attacked by a man carrying a hammer.

“That’s when I knew things had gone too far. I was scaring myself to death. I’m not doing the Ouija board any more, I vowed.”

This was later, after the neighbors (what were their names?)  had moved away,  when Angela had no one to share her sense of foreboding, her fears. Everytime she went out she felt people staring at her, watching her, waiting.

Then one night, leaving her home to visit her 28-year-old son, Darren, who lived nearby, Angela locked the front door and walked down the cold concrete stairwell steps to the street below. As she left the building, talking to her son on a cell phone, from the corner of her eye she sensed someone move towards her.

“From behind me I heard a voice. ‘Die bitch,’ it growled. I froze at the sound of those words. Shaking with fear, I turned to see a man in a white T-shirt, emerging from the shadows wielding a claw hammer.

“I screamed as he brought the weapon down on my head with a sickening thud. He hit me again and warm blood began trickling down my face.

“I couldn’t see where my attacker was I just wanted to get away. Drenched in blood, I made it to the front door and then collapsed.

“Waking in hospital I felt confused and groggy. ‘You were attacked,’ a doctor explained. ‘You’ve suffered a fractured skull.’”

Angela told the police what she remembered, but her attacker was never found.

Over the following months, she lived in fear that this deranged man would return “and finish the job, just as the spirit had warned through the Ouija board.”

But this never happened. Six years on, Angela is still scared that “the spirit’s prediction will one day come true.”

“If I’d listened to Dad’s warnings through the psychic maybe none of this would’ve happened. But now I’m warning all of you - never mess with Ouija boards. You don’t know what evil lurks in the afterlife.”

It’s a good yarn, but is any of it true? It appears to me, we have three separate events that have been drawn together to create one personal narrative, which may (or may not) be true. Angela is a woman who has suffered various personal and private tragedies in her life (some of which have been documented in various newspapers), but my concern is not with her, but with the veracity of her tale and how it has been reported.

For example, when Angela was attacked in January 2008, she made “claims to know her attacker and that she has been involved in a financial dispute with the man.” If she knew her attacker, then why were there no arrests? If there was an arrest, then what happened next? There is no paper trail of news stories reporting what did happen next, just strange, scurrilous, rather serious and possibly libellous allegations made on certain blogs. This inability to ask pertinent questions is all part of that journalistic amnesia from which news reportage appears to suffer with growing frequency.

This is especially true in regard of the two papers reporting these stories as the Sunday People, who covered the Ouija board story, and the Daily Record, who reported the attack, are owned by the same company. Did they not carry-out any background research or delve further into the story?

Next, who were Angela’s neighbors who invited her in for a seance? What were their names? Where did they go? Was the tumbler smashed against a wall? Did the glass spell out “Satan”? Was murder threatened? Why is there no corroboration of these reported events? Surely it would not have been too difficult to ask other neighbors as to who these mysterious people are? Or, even check with the electoral register as to who lived in the house at the time?

Then of course, we are not told where this original psychic meeting held? Who organized it? When? What are other people’s memories of it? Who was the psychic who sang the Jim Reeves number? It’s all great atmospheric detail but little more than scene-setting without any corroboration.

Indeed, the story leaves so many questions unanswered that it suggests the whole tale is probably bogus. And if it is bogus then a bigger and possibly better mystery becomes visible—Why would anyone tell such a tale? And why publish it?
Via the Sunday People

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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Meet Slim Twig: He’s been compared to Nick Cave, Lou Reed, Scott Walker, David Bowie, even Elvis
03:56 pm


DFA Records
Slim Twig

Although I’m fairly firmly of the opinion that no man under the age of 40 should sport facial hair—a beard is earned, a reward for getting old, a mask for covering the years up, even—I didn’t let that sour me on Slim Twig. He’s got too much talent for that.

Slim Twig is the stage name of Toronto-born actor/musician Max Turnbull. He’s been putting out scads of under-the-radar releases since 2005. In September, DFA Records re-released his 2012 album A Hound at the Hem and it’s very fucking good.

Mind you, there’s a difference between “very fucking good” and great, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want young Mr. Twig to get a big head. He seems destined for greatness, though, I’ll give him that. A Hound At The Hem, which was recorded in 2010 and first put out independently before this new DFA Records release, is an album that should be heard. I haven’t heard an album this strong by a new artist since… since a long time ago.

The press release describes A Hound At The Hem as a concept album loosely inspired by Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita and as “an echo-like response to Serge Gainsbourg and Jean-Claude Vannier’s Histoire de Melody Nelson.”

It takes balls to claim—or even imply—something like that!

He’s also been compared in print to Nick Cave, Lou Reed, Suicide and David Bowie.

Not to mention Scott Walker by The Quietus:

“. . . a wholly satisfactory solution for those [Scott] Walker fans who find themselves torn between the full-bodied melodrama of his earliest solo work and the often impenetrable soundscapes of the post-Climate Of Hunter years. It’s this balance of accessibility and experimentation that makes Hound - and indeed Twig himself - such an intriguing prospect. For every chunk of Zombies-esque pop-psych riffage, there’s a muffled hip-hop beat buried deep in the mix; for every elegant orchestral flourish, there’s a vocal that sounds like it’s been dubbed in Lee Perry’s echo chamber.”

Even the King of rock and roll:

“[Slim Twig’s music is]...what might happen if you left a bunch of Elvis Presley LPs on a radiator, smashed them to bits with a hammer and re-assembled them for play on a turntable. In a word, otherworldly.”

Considering his age—he’s 26—Slim Twig’s got plenty of room to grow as an artist, but still, if you’re going to be compared to anyone, I reckon he’s in pretty good company with the aforementioned. I’d add Iggy Pop, John Lennon and Harry Nilsson to the list for this one, the insanely catchy single “All This Wanting.” I played this song once and couldn’t get it out of my head for the entire weekend. It’s been on repeat around here at the Dangerous Minds office:

More from Slim Twig after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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Skateboarding in an abandoned psychiatric ward
03:55 pm



Photo credit: Sean Colello
Skaters Sean Collelo and Rob Miceli take you on a pretty wild ride through an abandoned psychiatric ward in New York state. As I was watching them walk through the underground tunnels all I could think of was too much asbestos. Those old pipes are just covered in it!

The footage wasn’t entirely shot in the psych ward, but some other abandoned buildings as well. They never reveal the exact locations, so it’s up to you to figure it out. But dammit, I’m a sucker for this type of stuff.

The campus is a pretty huge area made up of about 10 abandoned buildings and 4 buildings that are still functioning. Psych patients roam around the complex and so do cops. Most of the abandoned buildings are pretty boarded up so you can’t get in, but the thing that’s so sick is all the buildings are connected with underground tunnels, so if you can find a way into one, you can access them all. The nurses used these tunnels to deliver food and supplies to the patients all over the center. It’s surprisingly untouched. You will still find office supplies, files, photos, machinery, and other artifacts.

Once we found our way into the tunnels, we quickly learned it was a giant maze: Loads of dead ends, stairs going up and down, and puddles so big you have to use cinder blocks as stepping stones. The reason we called the project ‘The Search For BLDG.40′ is because the first room in the video that Rob skates was the hardest to get to.

What I dig most about this is that it’s where skate culture meets art. And it looks fun as hell too!

Via Gawker

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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Superheroes and supervillains reimagined as 16th century aristocrats
02:08 pm


Sacha Goldberger


As science fiction meets history of art, time meets an inexhaustible desire for mythology which is within each of us.
—Sacha Goldberger

Viewing these photos by artist Sacha Goldberger on a smart phone simply won’t do them justice. You really need to zoom in on the images to admire the painstaking detail that Goldberger has put in to them.

The series is called “Super Flemish” and an exhibition for it was recently held at the School Gallery Paris

Sacha’s discovery of these characters, which goes back to childhood, gave birth to a desire to re-appropriate them, to take them back to a time forming the cornerstone of modern western art. Sacha wants to confront these icons of American culture with contemporary painters of the Flemish school. The collection demonstrates the use of 17 century techniques counterpointing light and shadow to illustrate nobility and fragility of the super powerful of all times. It also invites you to celebrate the heroes of your childhood. These characters have become icons to reveal their humanity: tired of having to save the world without respite, promised to a destiny of endless immortality, forever trapped in their character.

The superheroes often live their lives cloaked in anonymity. These portraits give them a chance to « fix » their narcissism denied. By the temporal disturbance they produce, these images allow us to discover, under the patina of time, an unexpected melancholy of those who are to be invincible.

I didn’t post all the images, as I want to encourage you to visit Goldberger’s website so you can view them all in hi-res.



More after the jump…

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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Jeff Buckley: A dream interrupted
01:56 pm


Jeff Buckley

It was May 30, 1997 and I was on my way home after closing the bar I managed in downtown Manhattan. I made my usual stop at Gem Spa to pick up the early morning editions of The New York Post and Daily News before heading to Veselka for a quick late night breakfast. Sitting in the restaurant and flipping through the Post I came upon something that crushed my heart - Jeff Buckley had died, drowned in the Wolf River in Memphis. I wept. He was 31.

Buckley showed tremendous promise and I thought he was going to be huge. His debut album Grace was a stunner—both epic and tender, huge and intimate. I had seen him in concert several times (St. Ann’s was otherworldly) and every performance was sublime. At Irving Plaza, my teenage daughter and my wife were totally smitten by his angelic good looks, heavenly voice and powerful presence—his appeal went beyond age, fashion or demographic. Buckley could channel Robert Plant and Edith Piaf all in one song. He really was an amazingly beautiful soul and tremendously gifted artist. In my rock and roll world he’s left a void that will certainly never be filled and I can only dream of what might have been. His musical output was small but what there is of it will endure and seduce generations to come. Buckley may have died but his art is immortal.

On this day, his date of birth, I share this BBC documentary with you and some fine live footage.

Jeff Buckley - Everybody Here Wants You was produced in 2002 and contains archival footage of Jeff performing live as well as interviews with family, friends and musicians that include Chrissie Hynde, Gary Lucas, Jimmy Page and Patti Smith.

Buckley live in Providence R.I., 1995:

Posted by Marc Campbell | Discussion
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93-year-old great grandmother smoking weed for the first time
12:24 pm



93-year-old “Silver Princess” and her son “Open Sky”—these are their code names, btw—record themselves smoking the good shit for the very first time. Since they both live in the state of Washington where weed is legal, grandma and her son are willing to try it at least once. Why not, right? Hilarity ensues as they videotape themselves toking up. Pure comedy.

I’m not entirely convinced this is grandma’s first time. She immediately knew the word for a spliff was a “joint” while her son struggled to find the appropriate word for it.

The whole thing is really amusing to watch and incredibly adorable, too.

Via reddit

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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Hitler’s home movies, starring Mel Brooks (with a young David Letterman), 1978
10:37 am


Adolf Hitler
David Letterman
Mel Brooks

It’s well known that Mel Brooks has something of a Hitler obsession. His first directorial feature was The Producers, which centered around an irresistible ditty called “Springtime for Hitler.” In Blazing Saddles, set in the Wild West several decades before Hitler’s rise to power, Brooks managed to smuggle in the Nazis indirectly, via Lili von Shtupp, a Marlene Dietrich parody played by Madeline Kahn, as well as the Germanic baddies that show up to be part of Hedley Lamarr’s army of mercenaries. In 1983 Brooks remade the 1942 Ernst Lubitsch classic To Be or Not to Be, which revolved around actors pretending to be high-echelon Nazis, including a musical number in which Brooks’ Fredrick Bronski (dressed as Hitler) sings “A Little Peace,” a merry song of his own composition about invading every country in Europe.

The recent American Masters documentary on Brooks, Make A Noise, actually dedicates a section to Brooks’ recurring interest in Hitler and even bothers to ask Brooks if he can remember the first time he ever became aware of Hitler, a query Brooks describes as “crazy.”

David Letterman and Alan Oppenheimer as Dan Cochran and Miles Rathbourne
Brooks even played Hitler himself once, in a parody of 60 Minutes-style TV news magazines called Peeping Times, which ran on NBC on January 25, 1978. Four years before getting his own talk show on the same network, David Letterman played “Dan Cochran,” one of the show’s anchors. One of the segments purports to show recently unearthed footage of Hitler and Eva Braun in the mid-1930s. You can even hear Alan Oppenheimer’s Miles Rathbourne snort in voiceover, “He looks like Mel Brooks.” Naturally, Brooks plays Hitler for maximum silliness, dancing a little jig, getting spoon-fed by Eva like a small child, and complaining that the cameraman (Rudolf Hess) isn’t shooting the footage properly. Note that the fellow who cues up the footage is played by a young James Cromwell.

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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