New Year, new you? Maybe. You can change the way you live and what you want to do. You can change your looks, your attitude, your friends, your hair. But there are some things you can’t change and the state knows that.
When Robert De Niro was de-aged for Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman he might have looked years younger but his bodily movements identified him as old. The idea that our body movements can identify our age, sex, and to an extent exactly who we are has led governments (like China) to use body motion technologies to keep tabs on its population.
Filmmaker John Butler has just released a short animation highlighting this new form of state surveillance. Called Gaitkeeper, a nice little play on words, Butler’s latest film aims to expose how governments are using body motion technology to control their citizens. I caught up with Butler this morning and asked about Gaitkeeper.
What inspired your new animation?
John Butler: Lots of artists have been doing things on facial recognition, and how to thwart/evade it, and it’s a well worn theme. My aim is to look at the new science of ‘gait recognition’, which is being tested as part of China’s social credit system. I’m sure you know about that, it’s the techtalitarian system of assigning each citizen a score for good behaviour, which relies heavily on digital surveillance tools such as facial recognition.
In a ‘solid state’, purchasing nappies is good, and buying alcohol is bad. A cashless system makes every transaction visible, so nosey journalists can often find themselves unable to book flights or even access the web.
Gait Recognition works on the assumption that your walk is as individual as your face or fingerprint, and I would agree. It allows identification from a distance and in cases where the face is obscured.
And you’ve used motion capture for this film?
JB Since motion capture is central to my art, I thought it was an obvious thing to do, especially since getting my own smartsuit. It is also a blatant attempt to be first in the field!
I was interested in the spat between Scorsese and Marvel, which you’ll know all about. In particular, he has used all of Marvel’s pioneering ageing/de-ageing tech to make The Irishman. One review praised how well it was done, but mentions the fact that De Niro “walks like a 70 year old…”
I think this backs up the theory that we are not images, but a compendium of behaviors. In the first Ant Man, they de-aged Michael Douglas, but he still has his older voice.
Another example is from Final Fantasy in 2000. This was the first attempt at a mocap film, and was a box office bomb. What surprised me was how James Woods, one of the most distinctive actors around, sounded like anyone else, when put into a synthetic character. I conclude that James Woods cannot be split into components. You need the hyper kinetic body language, the shifty look, the narrow face etc….
Our movement, motion, is as distinctive as our faces, and this will soon be captured and interned. Gaitkeeper is a biometric control suite designed to counter the challenge of “Locomotive Camouflage.”
Is that how you think we can counter governments using motion capture against us?
JB: Yes, with Gaitkeeper I’m imagining a time when performance artists and dance specialists will be in demand to train civic insurgents in the art of Locomotive Camouflage. It’s also “The Ministry of Silly Walks,” for the age of surveillance.
Gaitkeeper depicts a training and deployment phase, and a carivalesque riot inspired by the umbrellas of Hong Kong.
At the age of eighteen, Gábor Urbán began his studies in painting at the University of Novi Sad in Serbia. He would also explore the craft under the tutelage of successful painter Árpad G. Balázs. After spending nearly two decades perfecting his surrealist style of painting, Urbán was able to support himself as a freelance artist starting in the early 1980s. In the wake of the ethnic conflicts arising in the region as the Yugoslav Wars were beginning their various decade-long clashes, Urbán would leave Serbia in defiance of the conflicts and unwillingness to participate in it as a soldier.
He would travel to nearby Hungary, though he also spent much of his time away from Serbia on an island located in the Adriatic Sea, Hvar. Living up to his motto, “Not a day without a line,” Urbán would continue to paint, inspired by his stunning surroundings, such as the lavender fields of Hvar and the ocean. Another recurring subject in Urbán’s work are wild horses often painted into phantasmagorical situations, just like the humans who become a part of his swirling, surreal universe. And as I’m on the topic of phantasmagorical situations, Urbán is also known for his apocalyptic visions of what the future may hold for mankind. Using a similar color scheme in each, Urbán would paint 20+ examples of his lush nudes in end-of-times scenarios, including crucifixions, rapture-esque demises including the devil, and warnings about the effects of consumerism on our very souls. While his imagery with these specific works is pulsing with surrealism, Urbán also shows great skill in his ability to capture the essence of the old masters as well as incorporating aspects of Greek mythology into his work.
Now in his early 70s, Urbán has been struggling to complete his “life’s work” due to an undisclosed medical condition. In 2016 an Indiegogo site was launched to help raise funds for the painter to help him finish five to eight paintings. Unfortunately, the page is no longer fundraising, and the rather private Gábor, who splits his time living in Serbia and Hungary, has not provided any updates as to his progress or condition. In light of this revelation, I’m happy to shine a very bright light on Urbán’s darker works in the hope it will create more awareness of this incredibly talented artist. Most, if not all, are NSFW.
Incredibly, after 46 years, the earliest known live video of KISS has surfaced. The footage was shot during a December 21st, 1973 club gig in Queens at the Coventry, a New York venue that hosted many early KISS shows, including their debut the previous January. The video captures a historic moment, as the concert marked the first time all four members of the group appeared on stage in full makeup.
KISS had recently signed to Casablanca Records, and before the show starts, the announcer tells the crowd the label will be putting out KISS’s album in the new year. We get to see the band play two songs that will be on that record—“Deuce” and “Cold Gin”—but that’s all there is, unfortunately, as the video ends before the conclusion of the latter tune.
For the first 90 seconds or so, not much happens in the clip, so we’ve got it cued up to where the action begins. KISS fans will surely be delighted to see the group execute the now-famous synchronized choreography during “Deuce,” which they still do to this day.
Video from another KISS show at the Coventry, which took place the following evening, was included on volume three of Kissology. Watch it here.
In the world of adult magazines, the devil girl has always been one of the standby icons. And not just there, but in comic books, film, art, tattooing and just about anywhere else you might look. Almost always a positive thing and a fantasy bigger than all the Bettie Pages, Marilyn Monroes and Jayne Mansfields combined. By the 1950s fantasy and reality started having blurred lines. Oh it always existed, but in the late 1940s when John Willie created the first full on fetish magazine, Bizarre, the devil girl was made flesh. This magazine influenced Irving Klaw and all the publishers of the now beloved “vintage smut” (a major hashtag on Instagram and other hashtaggy photo display sites). Magazines like Exotique, the art of Eric Stanton, Gene Bilbrew (Eneg), and others became a long running mainstay. Many of these magazines existed to display personal ads for things, even now, that many people just couldn’t come out and say they were into. Even today, the bizarre content of these 50, 60 and 70-year-old magazines is truly BIZARRE! These are the most collected adult magazines the world over.
When the 60s rolled around and free love, paganism, communal living, more open nudism and—furthest from center, Anton LaVey’s Church of Satan—split the population in two as far as people interested in these activities. In pre X-rated adult films, adult magazines were approaching porno rapidly. There were the people that actually lived this stuff and even more people who wanted to know about it, but couldn’t possibly do it! This audience created the massive business we are about to discuss.
The slightly older suburban set (not the wife swappers and swingers, but the lonely uptight fellas) really wanted a glimpse into this other world, and there became the essence of adult and underground film and publications, especially the kind you could secretly take home. This audience is what is known in the adult film world as “the raincoat crowd”—horny guys who went alone to the theaters in Times Square and other places like it around the country. Many of these films are so insane they must be seen to be believed and most of them, literally thousands of them, can be bought or downloaded from Something Weird Video.
There was a great interest in the Church of Satan as they used nudity and sex magick and weren’t just some stuffy new religion, but seemed like the ultimate party! LaVey and his church got so much magazine play (they’re in movies as well including a documentary on them, Satanis The Devil’s Mass, just reissued on Blu-ray). This subject proved so popular that a cottage industry of Satanic porn magazines, some lighthearted, some very dark popped up. As innocence ended with the advent of mass-produced, readily available porn, everything rushed out the door as fast as it could be printed. These particular magazines are just about the rarest, most collectible and most expensive porn mags on the collectors market.
I had heard about an underground cult of collectors putting out a compendium of these almost secret magazines and set out my feelers to find and talk to them. When I found them I had to agree to their terms and be put in a car, blindfolded, and driven to an amazing space where I sat with a man in a leather mask. Offered a drink, I steadfastly refused. Here’s the interview…
So…do you represent some newfangled vintage smut collecting anonymous devil cult?
Vintage smut collecting is a solitary path. There is no unity or group activities that we promote. While we often encourage collectors to communicate with others regarding the titles they are actively hunting since this sort of networking may aid the buyer in searches, our sense of community does not proceed much further than communication among peers to meet collecting milestones. Sharing this material with others, is often beneficial for amorous rituals. So, it is advisable to view with one or more partners in a sensual setting to facilitate sexual rites. Publishing this book allows us to share our unholy sacrament with the chosen few. So, these interested individuals can finally obtain the hidden knowledge and elusive ritual tools that will allow them to explore this realm for themselves.
I hear just a lucky few get the wild evil record made in conjunction with this book. What does one have to do to get it and what’s on it?
To spice up this already mega tasty publication we wanted to include one of our favorite bands; the mysterious slime hard rock psycho band Ball. In the past Ball has really managed to summon the crazy satanic and murky occult vibe of these mags, in their song and video “Satanas” for example. So, we bribed them with smut and asked if they to record a new song that could be featured on an exclusive flexi-disc single for a few select copies of the book and they came up with the crazed “Horny Highlights from Debauched”. The ways to actually procure a copy are most mysterious but probably includes a solemn request directly to Ball.
How long did it take to amass this incredible collection & what else do you collect? Are there more volumes in store?
The collection has been growing in size for roughly seven years. Satanic Mojo Comix and Jason Atomic was the catalyst that first awakened our interest in these devilish artifacts. Collecting vintage magazines currently consumes most of our waking hours. All other pursuits have been obliterated to focus on “adult slicks.” The records, jukeboxes, Italian horror fumetti, and original art acquisitions are all currently sidelined and paused. Magazines reign supreme in the top collecting spot, draining bank accounts and sending us scrambling like rabid addicts to our local post office whenever a delivery is missed. There are more volumes currently in the works, and we are more than excited to continue sharing the wealth with open minded adults over the age of 18, seeking to learn more about vintage smut. There have been numerous recent 60s and 70s magazine discoveries by our acquisition team that will blow minds and leave the reader breathless and begging for more. At this precise moment we look forward to continuing and enhancing our current exploration of witchery and devilry in the next volume, being assembled in our labs.
So, this is Christmas and…no matter what you’ve done, may I wish you all the very best Compliments of the Season, Happy Holidays and a very Merry Christmas.
Ah, Christmas. This magical pagan-Christian festival which owes as much to the Victorians and Charles Dickens for the way it is celebrated as it does to good ole Jesus and a bunch of Druids. In many respects it’s fair to say, Dickens was the man who revitalized (or some might say reinvented) Christmas with his classic tale A Christmas Carol. Dickens became so associated with Christmas that when he died in 1870, there was a suggestion that if Dickens could die then so could Father Christmas. But his inspiration was not religious or even superstitious but rather his book was written as a response to the grim inequalities of Victorian England.
Originally, Dickens considered writing a political pamphlet to highlight the issue—An Appeal to the People of England, on behalf of the Poor Man’s Child—but figured such a pamphlet would have only a very limited appeal to well-meaning academics, enthusiastic charity workers, liberal politicians and rich philanthropists.
It was after he addressed a political rally in Manchester, in October 1843, where he encouraged workers and employers to join together in order to bring about social change, that Dickens decided it would be far, far better to write a story that would carry his message to the greatest number of people.
He reworked a story he had previously written in The Pickwick Papers—”The Story of the Goblins who Stole a Sexton” as the basis for A Christmas Carol. He wrote it in a furious burst of creative energy in between completing chapters for his serialized novel Martin Chuzzlewit. His story of an old miser called Ebenezer Scrooge being given a chance of redemption through the visits of three ghosts was his response to the horrific working conditions Dickens had seen in London and Manchester. During the writing of the A Christmas Carol, he would often wander out at night around the grim and impoverished London boroughs, sometimes making a loop of ten-fifteen miles in a night, witnessing firsthand the extreme poverty endured by working class families—in particular their children.
Published on December 17, 1843, A Christmas Carol sold 5,000 copies by Christmas Eve. Dickens believed this book was the greatest success he ever achieved, becoming his best-known book which has never been out-of-print since its first publication.
A Christmas Carol isn’t really a traditional ghost story of the kind later made famous by M. R. James or Algernon Blackwood. The real horror of the story is not the ghosts but rather the horrors of Ignorance and Want hiding in the cloak the Ghost of Christmas Present:
They are Man’s and they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance and this girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.
While the emotional (or rather sentimental) heart of the tale rests with Bob Cratchit and the fate of Tiny Tim. Moreover, as G. K. Chesterton pointed out though Dickens considered himself “to be a brisk man of the manufacturing age, almost a Utilitarian,” he defended the medieval feast of Christmas (food, alcohol, and dancing) “which was going out against the Utilitarianism which was coming in. He could see what was bad in medievalism. But he fought for all that was good in it.”
The story has inspired numerous movies (the one with Alastair Sim being a personal favorite), musicals (yep, I dig Leslie Bricusse score for Scrooge), comedies, and of course radio and TV versions—most recently a “woke” interpretation starring Guy Pearce as Ebenezer.
In 1971, the brilliant, nay genius animator Richard Williams made his version of A Christmas Carol starring Alastair Sim as Scrooge, Michael Hordern as Marley, Melvyn Hayes as Bob Cratchit, Joan Sims as Mrs Cratchit and Michael Redgrave as the narrator.
Williams, who died earlier this year, was one of the most innovative and original animators of the past sixty years. His work ranged from his award-winning debut animation The Little Island to the titles for What’s New Pussycat? and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum to the animation for Who Framed Roger Rabbit and his great magnum opus which was wrestled from his hands by philistine producers The Thief and the Cobbler.
A Christmas Carol was first broadcast on U.S. television by ABC on December 21, 1971, and released in cinemas the following year. The film deservedly won Williams an Academy Award for Best Short Animation. It’s magical, beautiful film, which is suitable for getting in the mood for today.
Crowhurst AKA Jay Gambit is a prolific underground musician who has released over 75 shapeshifting pieces of music that traverse the musical domains of ambient electronica, drone, black metal and noise. He’s collaborated with many other artists, and his latest is with the great British composer and arranger Gavin Bryars, who has himself collaborated with Merce Cunningham, Brian Eno and more recently with Father John Misty on his Pure Comedy triumph of 2017.
Here’s Jay Gambit describing the work in his own words:
“In 2017, I moved away from my longtime residence of Los Angeles into a house in Philadelphia and fell into a fairly deep creative slump where I was unsure of my abilities and purpose. I ended up signing up for the only grant I’ve ever applied for, and ended up getting it. This allowed me to go to France and study composition under Gavin. Upon arriving at the 17th century hotel in the Pyrenees to a house full of classically trained musicians, I fumbled my way through a presentation of drones and experimental music only to find that my insecurities toward my own abilities were rooted in a lack of technical ability rather than composition skills. I proceeded to ask Gavin if he had any fragments or abstract sound sources available that I could distort, and he found a number of random files including instrument multitracks of various rehearsals from different performances, from when he opened the Tate, to cancelled operas. Excerpts of live performances of Sinking Of The Titanic where percussive elements were recorded underwater while the orchestra played on the ship above - all weaved into new compositions that mirror a style of storytelling that Gavin refers to as an “incoherent American narrative” style. Each of the tracks carry the same weight of Bryars’ seminal pieces like Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet while retaining all of the peaks, valleys, emotion and distortion present in my more conceptual albums such as Aghoree and Memory-Loss. “
To this Gavin Bryars added:
“It’s not my world. I’m an old fashioned composer who works with pencil and paper, so when you place it into new context and it becomes something new. I think it’s terrific.”
Crowhurst + Gavin Bryars Presents: Incoherent American Narrative is set for release in January 2020. The record’s artwork is by Arizona artist Lauren Bailey.
The album’s opening piece, “Blistered Glaciers”
Gambit and Bryars talking about their collaboration.
To All a Goodnight (1980) is the only movie directed by David Hess, the singer/actor best remembered as Krug Stillo, the lead psycho in Wes Craven’s notorious 1972 film, The Last House on the Left. To All a Goodnight hasn’t been widely seen, and though the flick has duly received its share of criticism from those who have, it’s worth noting for its place in slasher film history.
In To All a Goodnight, a group of young female students have stayed behind at their school, rather than returned home for the Christmas break. A killer party is planned, but after the festivities begin, a murderous, masked Santa threatens to ruin all the fun. Could the slayings have anything to do with the death of a girl who died during a hazing incident two years earlier?
Okay, that’s the gist of the film. Before I get into the merits (and lack thereof) of the picture, I found its position in the slasher cinema timeline to be intriguing, so let’s start there.
According to IMDb, To All a Goodnight premiered on January 30th, 1980. Assuming this is correct, that means it predates, by a few months, Friday the 13th (1980), the first major slasher film to come out after Halloween (1978). Incidentally, the killers in both To All a Goodnight and Friday the 13th have similar motives. As far as the homicidal Santa character, the 1/30/80 date also means that it precedes Christmas Evil (which debuted in November 1980), and by several years, Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984). Furthermore, To All a Goodnight is one of the earliest—if not the earliest—holiday-themed slasher with a masked murderer to follow Halloween.
Other slasher elements include the Xmas theme, borrowed from Bob Clark’s groundbreaking 1974 slasher, Black Christmas (also nicked was the basic premise of young adult women staying at school over holiday break). Though To All a Goodnight doesn’t have a “Final Girl”, per se, the innocent heroine Nancy is certainly Final Girl-esque.
The estimated budget was a paltry $70,000, and the film was reportedly shot over the course of just ten days, so admittedly, there’s wasn’t a lot for first time director David Hess to work with. Not helping matters is the flimsy script, the laughably bad dialogue, and the acting chops, which range from average to subpar. As for Hess, he didn’t set the world on fire with his directing here—the biggest goof I noticed was a nighttime scene obviously filmed in broad daylight—though I’ll give him points for creating some atmosphere.
Perhaps the biggest issue with To All a Goodnight is its general lack of suspense—a pretty big problem, considering this is a horror film, after all. Then there’s the bombshell ending, which is basically nonsensical and designed to shock, more than anything else.
Despite (because of?) its faults, I think fans of cheesy ‘80s slashers will get a kick out of To All a Goodnight. If you dig such films, it’s definitely worth seeing once—but maybe not more than that!
Some have criticized the movie for being ridiculously dark, but this appears to have been the result of a poor transfer during the VHS days (see this YouTube upload of the U.S. home video edition). The Blu-ray, while a little grainy, doesn’t have any lighting issues. A similar looking rip of the film is embedded below, though, alas, it has Greek subtitles. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray/DVD set is available on Amazon.
This is a guest post by Spencer Kansa, author of the Marjorie Cameron biography Wormwood Star, coming out soon in a new edition.
Bing Crosby and David Bowie bookend the 20th century of popular music. Massively influential and innovative in their own individual ways, these master vocalists were bona fide icons of their respective generations, with careers spanning 50 years. Still, few at the time would have believed that their collaboration in 1977, on Crosby’s Merrie Olde Christmas TV show, would become the beloved cultural artifact it is today.
On paper, it seemed an improbable pairing. The easygoing crooner, whose smooth reassuring voice helped shepherd Americans through the Depression and Second World War into peacetime prosperity, singing carols with the premier rock star of the Space Age, who’d risen to become the artistic driving force behind Western popular music. But any lingering doubts were banished that magical moment when Bowie’s cockneyfied croon gels perfectly with Bing’s bass-baritone and they start to sing.
For Crosby, the duet was a marvellous capper on an illustrious career in which he conquered the mediums of radio and television; become an Academy Award-winning actor and one of the biggest box office draws of the 1940s and 50s and, above all, reigned as one of the most successful recording artists in history, with a staggering 41 #1 hits, including “White Christmas,” which remains the world’s best-selling record of all time with over 50 million copies sold.
For Bowie, the duet was another surprising left turn that confirmed his status as the most audacious and uncategorizable pop artist of the 1970s; occurring at a midway point in his imperial period, that had seen him revolutionize how pop music was synthesised and presented on stage, on video, and on a dozen long-playing masterpieces. An astonishing creative streak that would further yield the new wave classics Lodger and Scary Monsters; the pop perfection of Let’s Dance and the global domination gained by its accompanying Serious Moonlight Tour, culminating with his commanding performance at Live Aid in 1985.
But the story behind the duet has generated certain myths over the years, and to iron out a few of them, I recently spoke with Bing’s daughter, the actress Mary Crosby, who, in 1980, rose to international prominence herself playing Kristin Shepard, the conniving, sloe-eyed seductress in the popular soap opera Dallas, and famously fired a couple of slugs into the dastardly J. R. Ewing, in a cliffhanger reveal watched by over 350 million viewers worldwide.
Since they began being broadcast in 1970, Bing Crosby’s Christmas specials had become a televisual tradition: a welcome, perennial presence in American homes. The 1977 episode happened to coincide with Bing’s 50th anniversary in showbiz, and as part of that celebration included concert performances in the UK that autumn, the programme-makers decided to film and set that year’s show in England, casting British entertainers. According to Mary, the idea to invite Bowie onto the show came from one of the producers, whose attitude was: ‘Wouldn’t it be wild?’ “They knew it was a long shot but it was a stroke of genius.” The offer came at an opportune for both singers who were, fortunately, able to synchronise their busy schedules. Bowie was already in England to drum up publicity for his latest single and album, Heroes, which was set to be released on September 23rd and October 14th respectively.
His TV itinerary began on September 7th, when he travelled to Granada Studios in Manchester to sing the title track on the teatime TV show fronted by his old mucker, Marc Bolan. He sang it to a backing track created by Bolan’s studio band, which included previous Bowie alums, Herbie Flowers (on bass) and Tony Newman (on drums), with Bowie himself trying his best to approximate Robert Fripps’s original guitar lines. Although they’d planned to end the show duetting a new song together (“Sitting Next To You”), this was scuppered when Bolan slipped off his monitor and the jobsworth crew refused to shoot another take.
Four days later, Bowie arrived at Elstree Studios in Borehamwood to perform “Heroes” again and “do something” with Bing Crosby.
For Mary Crosby, who performed on the show, alongside her actress mother, Kathryn, and her brothers, Harry and Nathaniel, Bowie’s arrival proved particularly memorable: “My brothers and I were teenagers at the time and Bowie walks in with this woman and they’re both wearing mink coats with full makeup on and red hair – and they matched! It was such an outrageous entrance.” Although she concedes that Bowie’s appearance – especially his Ziggy red hair – might not have been exactly as she remembers it, she’s adamant that he and his female companion – whom she assumed was his wife, although it was most likely Coco Schwab, Bowie’s personal assistant, as Bowie’s marriage to Angie was already in tatters – entered wearing full make-up. “Your memory changes with history, but their entrance was so outrageous. And they cleaned Bowie up for sure. They took off his full make-up. We were tickled; we were stunned. And we thought it was fantastic – and it was!”
One of the great anomalies of the show is the repeated story about how Bowie refused to sing the suggested “The Little Drummer Boy” song because he hated it and threatened to walk unless he was given an alternative number. This is the reason given for why the “Peace on Earth” counterpoint was hastily composed by the show’s writer, Buz Kohan, the composer, Larry Grossman, and the show’s music director, Ian Fraser. And yet, Bowie does actually perform “The Little Drummer Boy” tune; he and Crosby sing the first eight bars together before Bowie launches off into the counter-melody, and Mary Crosby believes this change of heart happened “once they got together. Any resistance there may have been was shifted when they realized they were in good hands with each other. When they went to the piano and started playing, David was nervous and dad was leery, but the moment the song started they both relaxed because it was all about the music.”
Bowie and Bing rehearsed this new arrangement, as well as their playful banter, which played upon their intergenerational differences, for an hour and then recorded the finished song in three takes. According to Kohan, Bing “loved the challenge,” and Mary relates how gracious and accommodating her father was when Bowie asked if they could change the original key to better suit his voice. For whatever reason the counterpoint was created, it proved to be an inspired course of action because it created a dynamic that wouldn’t have existed if they’d just settled on a straightforward singalong of the song. Mary agrees and remembers watching in amazement as the duet took shape: “My brothers and I didn’t know how it would pan out, and we watched as they worked through it on the soundstage, and it made me really happy when it happened. Even at the time, I knew magic was being made. I knew it was an extraordinary moment in time.”
The premise of the TV special sees the Crosby family travelling to England to spend Christmas at the home of their posh, long-lost relative, Sir Percival Crosby; and the show spoofs several characters from the then-popular British period drama, Upstairs, Downstairs, the Downton Abbey (without the budget) of its day. The Scottish comic actor, Stanley Baxter, drags up as Mrs. Bridges, the cook, and Rose the scullery maid, as well as portraying Hudson, the butler, from the original show. Much more after the jump…
Earlier this year, I was reading an article about the Sleaford Mods on Louder Than War when I clicked over to a sidebar link to a video John Robb had posted which he said was “like all the great moments of Stiff Records rolled into one.” Naturally the heady promise of this description piqued my interest and I immediately hit play on the video for Scott Lavene’s “Mentholated Blue.” I teach film at the university and I thought the video, featuring Lavene in colorful street scenes of Harlem and Coney Island, would be worth showing to my students. So I heard it twice that day, and I thought “what a really pretty song” but that was about it. Then this semester I thought I’d show it again. This was just the third time I’d heard it and after that I simply could not get that song out of my head. Not that I wanted to. “Mentholated Blue” is a sweetly gorgeous love song and I found that it really appealed to me. I played the video again and again. Then I noticed that there were several more Scott Lavene videos, so I watched a few of them, (literally) laughed out loud many times and then looked to see if the album—titled Broke—was streaming on Tidal. It was.
You know how you always know the first songs better than the last ones on most albums because you rarely get to the end of one? I’d play the first three songs on Broke, then I’d have to do something. Then I’d return to it and get a bit further along and with each subsequent song I was hearing I began to see the contours of an extremely impressive songwriting talent emerge. And as I’d already seen in his music videos, the man was a wonderfully comic and highly charismatic performer. This Scott Lavene character really caused me to sit up and pay attention to what he was doing. No one in the media (other than John Robb, of course) told me I was supposed to like this. I felt like I had truly discovered a major—and as yet completely unknown—talent.
Sadly the views on his videos seemed depressingly low for how brilliant they were and for the great deal of effort that had obviously put into them. But I did notice that the online reviews of Broke were largely in line with my own opinions.
Read a few excerpts from them, so you don’t think it’s just me:
“I’m not cool,” says British singer-songwriter Scott Lavene. Nor does he try to be. In a scene overloaded with Arctic Monkeys wannabes, the earnestness of someone who marches to their own beat shines like a beam of sun through cloudy skies.
Back in 2016 I reviewed an album by an act called Big Top Heartbreak. Deadbeat Ballads was one of those albums where the personality of its creator truly shone through. It was a shame then that it languished in relative obscurity, with even being absent from some of the bigger music cataloguing websites. Its cult appeal was obvious though, and it was heartwarming when I saw the hits for the review here on Backseat Mafia slowly but steadily creep upwards years after its release. Deadbeat Ballads had an appeal beyond its cult appeal. Big Top Heartbreak made music that endured. For the next couple of years after its release, I kept my ear to the ground for news on Big Top Heartbreak, hoping that there would be a follow up to Deadbeat Ballads, but alas, as time progressed it seemed that it would be the sole standalone release for a talent that just didn’t get the attention it deserved.
Then a few months ago an email dropped into my inbox asking if I would like to review a new release by some guy called Scott Lavene. In the back of my mind a connection was made. An email was fired back to the PR company, asking if this was the same Scott Lavene who had previously recorded as Big Top Heartbreak. Turned out it was. Not only that, but the album was on its way to me.
Be it music released as Big Top Heartbreak, or under his own name, Scott Lavene has an innate talent for narratives delivered from the social perspective of those on the fringes of society. Not only that, but his instantly recognisable voice encourages empathy for those characters he is singing from the perspective of. Now you might think that that is one of the main requirements of any singer, but you’d be amazed just how rare that quality actually is, but it is one that Lavene has a surplus of.
***snip***
As is often the way with albums made of songs with string narratives, Broke is an album where different songs leap out at you every time you play it. “Super Clean,” “Modern World” and the title track are three tracks that never fail to make an impression, while “Methylated Blue” is an accessible number with a measure more production polish than the rest of the album. “Methylated Blue” practically screams out as the song with the most crossover potential, as it is complete with pretty melody, a chorus which hooks you in, and once again a narrative that even those of us unfamiliar with the references that Lavene makes can’t help but have an emotional response to.
Broke is an album which encourages these emotional responses, but doesn’t do anything so crass as demand them. It’s an album that gradually convinces you of its worth without having to shout about it, and in a music scene where competing for attention is the norm, it’s lovely to have an album by an artist that has a clear and convincing voice, rather than trying to shout above everyone else. Regardless of what name Scott Lavene records his next album under, I’ll be listening out for him.
Imagine if, instead of being born to an Evangelical Christian family in Maryland, Father John Misty grew up in the UK, spending his formative years smoking rollies outside the local Wetherspoons. With Scott Lavene, we have something similar to what we’d expect. On the basis of his debut album Broke, we’re witnessing the arrival of a promising talent with a gift for language.
[I know Josh Tillman and this is amusingly on target if you ask me. Compare Lavene’s “Modern World” to anything on FJM’s Pure Comedy.]
It shouldn’t be thought that Broke is a throwaway affair, however. Flotsam it ain’t. A fair chunk may be easily imaginable as the inspiring outro movie for a grimy but ultimately uplifting British movie, but, there is a grit and emotion that gives it weight. It’s ramshackle but there is depth. Took a couple of listens to get to that heft, but it’s there. A sincerity and honesty in the raw lyrics. Not being someone who obsesses over lyrics, it takes a lot to prick up my ears. Here you get the full range from urban meanders about gentrification and getting loaded to the plaintive, “dancing on two left feet, straight into the arms of some place new.” As a description of the human condition, that rather nails things.
Broke is a totally British record. There are sparkles and glitter over the possible highlight, “Methylated Blue,” but even those lyrics about stars in the sky seem anchored by the half-arsed ordinariness of suburbia. Suburban country blues with half-spoken, half-sung musings; that about sums up this effort. That may not sound immediately inspiring, depending upon your tastes, but it certainly grew on me. Putting on weight and gaining two extra points by the third listen.
Have a listen to “Methylated Blue” and it will give you a sense of Levene’s style – musical, conversational and with the wit that you can hear in the chorus “Girl, you’re really someone I can get used to/ She said ‘Boy you’re really someone I could get used to too’.” It’s not Romeo and Juliet – but it captures the couple beautifully. Like the best of, say, Otway or Dury, you’re simultaneously in the song sympathetic to the characters and seeing them from a third person perspective. Rather nice.
I agreed with all of the above wholeheartedly. Lest you be thinking I cherry picked the best reviews to bolster what I’m saying here, that’s just about all of them. This guy is a major, major talent, but these reviews, as nice as they all are, seemed to be coming from small blogs. No attention from the media capital of London.
Finally, after taking at least a week to get there, I listened to “Someplace New,” the final song on Broke. It was more on in the background. I wasn’t really paying attention to the words, but the melody, his voice and the way he was singing, almost subconsciously, moved me to tears. That’s a neat trick. And then I started it from the beginning again. This time I paid attention and oh boy is that song a strong fucking close to an undeniably brilliant record. Achingly gorgeous, if “Someplace New” was the final number in a Broadway or West End musical, there would not be a single dry eye in the house.
So yeah, I feel like I’ve “discovered” someone under the radar who could be, and should become, a well-known and respected songwriter-performer. And I’m trying to spread the word. Life experiences, as you will see below, have given Lavene a lot to write about. His songs can be deeply funny, but they can also be just… deep. Although Scott Lavene is almost always compared to Stiff artists like Elvis Costello or Ian Dury—justifiably so if you ask me—I also can’t help thinking his songwriting compares favorably to Randy Newman’s work.
In any event, Scott Lavene is constantly getting compared to some of the greatest storytelling singer songwriters of our time. There must be a reason for that, right?
So this is my Christmas gift to you, DM readers. If you like what you hear, spread the word about Scott Lavene’s music. You can buy Broke on Amazon (the CD is currently on sale for $5.57) or via Scott’s Bandcamp page.
After the jump, I ask Scott Lavene a few questions over email and there are LOADS of great videos and a Spotify playlist of ‘Broke’...
After he disbanded the original incarnation of the Mothers of Invention in 1969, Frank Zappa immediately started working on his second solo album, Hot Rats. He was backed in the studio by former Mother Ian Underwood as his main creative partner, along with electric violin pioneer Don “Sugarcane” Harris, his old chum from high school Captain Beefheart, Jean-Luc Ponty, several session musicians known as top LA jazz players, as well as a teenaged Shuggie Otis and an uncredited Lowell George.
The album was recorded at TTG Studios in Hollywood near the intersection of Sunset and Highland, a short drive from Zappa’s Laurel Canyon home. Zappa had recorded at TTG before, Freak Out! was done there, and the studio had a reputation for high quality sound. One of the studio’s owners, Tom Hidley, had worked on developing the first car stereo (for “Madman” Muntz) and had built the then state-of-the-art MGM/Verve studio in New York from the ground up. In 1968, Hidley devised a 16 track analog tape recorder—4 tracks or 8 tracks was the norm at the time—and deployed it at TTG.
Hidley’s “homemade” technical innovations offered Zappa fully twice the amount of recording tracks as had been available to him the last time he’d been in the studio and he took full advantage of TTG ‘s custom-built gear and advanced recording equipment to create an album unlike any that had been heard before. To illustrate just how big of a leap this was, for the first time Zappa was able to create a stereo drum sound. Instead of just one single (mono) track for drums, now he could record on four, one for the snare, one for the bass drum and two on either side for the rest of the kit and cymbals.This had never really been done before, and the extra tracks offered the engineer heretofore unfeasible levels of control in the mix down. Zappa’s methods were widely copied and became the standard studio protocol as 16 track recorders became more the norm. Zappa used other tracks for multiple overdubs by Ian Underwood of horns and keyboards. With just a few players, he could achieve the sound and rich musical textures of a large ensemble. Ian Underwood alone plays the parts of approximately eight to ten musicians. Simultaneously. Even the year before, that would have been utterly impossible.
An outtake of GTO Miss Christine from the ‘Hot Rats’ photo session by Andee Nathanson
Zappa also used a lot of tape manipulation and sonic processing, recording certain instruments double fast and then slowing them down to shift the sound into something more exotic. This is how the weirder aspects of the album’s unique sound came to be. Subtle and not so subtle electronic touches were integrated with woodwind instruments and grand piano. Zappa played a socket wrench on “Willie the Pimp” in case you have ever wondered what THAT sound was. He even close-miked a plastic comb for “It Must Be a Camel.”
What emerged from these session is a jazz-rock masterpiece. Zappa’s wild guitar improvisions roar across Hot Rats, adding a fiendishly greasy element to the overall sound. Hot Rats is jazz AND it is rock, unlike most music termed “fusion.” Jazz musicians could rock, sure, but could rock musicians jazz? Most could not, but Frank Zappa ultimately composed Frank Zappa music, and existed in his own self-created musical universe. His flavor of jazz-rock was uniquely his own. Listening to Hot Rats today, it’s interesting to wonder how it must’ve sounded to even the most adventurous music fans of 1969!
And now, 50 years later… there is even more Hot Rats. On December 20th, just a day shy of what would have been Frank Zappa’s 79th birthday, Zappa Records and UMe will release a mammoth six-disc boxed set of The Hot Rats Sessions. This collection collects every composition recorded during the July and August 1969 dates at TTG, and includes much material that would be utilized by Zappa elsewhere later. It’s a forensic look into how this classic was made and the fullest picture we have yet of Zappa working in the studio.
The Hot Rats Sessions will be available in a six CD boxed set and digitally, including as an Apple Digital Master. The completed basic tracks were mixed from the original multitrack analog master tapes by Craig Parker Adams and then mastered by Bob Ludwig earlier this year. The original album, pressed on hot pink vinyl by Pallas, is also available.
“Dame Margret’s Son To Be A Bride” (1969 Quick Mix)
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