I would rather be sorry than safe. But the price is going up, up, up, up.
Lost pioneers. Consuming new frontiers.

The fields of punk and its equally wild little step-brother, post-punk, were rich and woolly for a short period of time. London, Paris, Munich and the twin coasts of America, just to name a few key places. California was particularly ripe and out of the sun-soaked section known as Long Beach hailed a band both so quintessentially American and beautifully weird that their sonic imprint remains virtually untouched thirty plus years later. Formed by two Cal-Arts students, Su Tissue and Vix Billingsgate, Suburban Lawns were an outfit that seemed to be spawned out of the awkwardness of human relations, 70’s static-laden pop culture via a dodgy, foil-covered TV antenna and a keen knowing of how absurd such an existence truly is.

With members Frankie Ennui, Chuck Roast and John McBurney filling out the ranks, Suburban Lawns made their first impression with their 1979 song, “Gidget Goes to Hell,” which was used by now famed director Jonathan Demme for a suitably demented short film of the same name for Saturday Night Live. Couple that with a classic appearance on Peter Ivers’ groundbreaking New Wave Theater and the band already had insta-built cult status.
 

 
Flashing white teeth snap
Bloody bikini
Ohhhhhhh, Gidget goes to hell! Ohhh!
 

 
Luckily for us, the band didn’t rest on their quirky single laurels for too long and in 1981, released their self titled debut in 1981 via IRS Records. The album begins with the opening track, “Flying Saucer Safari.” There is no track stronger than this to fire off the proceedings, between Billingsgate’s galloping bass, Su’s otherworldly voice and lyrics like “Taco Bell and filter kings, Correctol and onion rings,” which reek of pure Americana-pop-culture-trash. If you’re making the modern day equivalent of a road trip playlist, then it is a near moral-imperative to have “Flying Saucer Safari” on it. (It would be roadtrip heresy otherwise.)

“Pioneers” follows, featuring some good and jagged-with-a-purpose guitar work that borders on funky and the sentiment, “I would rather be sorry than safe.” Indeed. Things get progressively more strange with the valium-drowned vocals of “Not Allowed” and then Su’s languid-languor intonations with “Gossip.” As the album progresses, her vocals take on a form of a mutated Zarah Leander, the Nazis-era chanteuse. This is a good thing. Tonally, the album switches gears to the paranoid with the moody “Protection.”
 
More after the jump…

 
The claim that prenatal exposure to music has beneficial effects for a child’s cognitive development seems plausible enough. After all, the notion that cows that listen to Lou Reed and REM give better milk has been proven scientifically. (However, you have to be careful: cows that listen to Bananarama are better off chewing their cud in silence.)

Institut Marqués, a Barcelona-based fertility center has introduced Babypod / Music in Baby S.L.U. a clever way to provide music to an unborn fetus that bypasses the “soft tissues” that “absorb and scatter sound”: namely, you stick a speaker into the vagina.

The device is called Babypod and you can acquire one for a mere £91.51 (at current exchange rates, that’s US$98.67). It comes with a cute pink case and has auxiliary earphones so that you can listen along with your unborn child.
 

 
There is an app that goes along with the system but it’s only available on Google Play. The website says that “the first list is free,” which suggests that the end user is encouraged to pay for music lists generated by Institut Marqués. It’s unclear whether you can use the system to play your fetus your favorite NoMeansNo cuts.

Here’s the translated narration text from the company’s promotional video, which for your convenience is embedded below:
 

Music stimulates the baby before birth, this is a scientific fact.

But, how to convey the musical stimulus?

In the same way that we cannot hear what is going on inside, the baby cannot hear what is happening outside. This is also a fact.

The soft tissues absorb and scatter sound.

Only from within we can stimulate the baby; 3D ultrasound scans demonstrate this.

Once your child can hear the music, the baby’s brain receives a stimulus that provokes and encourages a response.

The miracle of phonation starts prematurely, key to cognitive development, look how the baby sticks out its tongue.

And you can’t wait to talk to your child, to tell your baby how much you love him, and see how he reacts.

What if you could start now? Give your baby a universal stimulus. Send him a message from before birth, and make sure it reaches your child.

 
The Babypod folks claim that the device “stimulates the vocalization of babies before birth through music and encourages their neural development,” although these seem difficult prospects to prove conclusively. The developers claim that after studying hundreds of ultrasound scans, most babies are found to react with body, mouth and tongue movements when listening to music through the device.
 

 
via Factmag

 
Matt Bucy is probably best known in the world of fan fiction—he’s the co-producer and cinematographer for the impressive and ongoing series of fan-made Star Trek episodes called Star Trek Continues which endeavors to function (unofficially and non-canonically, of course) as a continuation of Star Trek TOS after its third and final season. Five episodes have been made since 2013, all of which have done a fine job of recreating the look and feel of the original 1960s Star Trek episodes. All of them are viewable online, and a sixth episode is scheduled for release this spring.
 

 
And somehow, amid his professional work, Bucy found the time to pull of one of the most brain-meltingly OCD remix stunts ever attempted: he’s alphabetized the indelibly classic 1939 film adaptation of The Wizard of Oz. The result is called Of Oz the Wizard, and it’s a mind-scramble to watch. So we’re clear on what exactly has been done here, Bucy re-edited the entire film so that every word of dialogue appears in alphabetical order—he even rearranged the credits. Repetitions of oft-recurring words are sometimes jarring, sometimes hilarious, sometimes actually musical. My favorite sections are “ARF” (I’m a dog person, sue me), “DEAD,” “HOW,” and, surprise surprise, “ROAD.” (Don’t even get me started on “BECAUSE,” good lord…)  I had to know what kind of person would do something so wonderfully insane, so I reached out to Bucy, who was kind enough to spare us some of his time to answer questions.

Dangerous Minds: GOOD GOD, MAN, WHY DID YOU DO THIS CRAZY THING?

Matt Bucy: It was a challenge from a friend, Ray Guillette, to do something never done before. While on a short road trip, he said he didn’t think anything original was possible. I said nonsense! He asked for an example. I hatched the idea then, pretty much complete, and we riffed on the idea for a while. Then I totally forgot about it. But a couple years later he asked me when I was going to make this original thing. I said I’d hop on it right away and thanked him for saving the project!

DM: When was this done and how long did it take?

MB: The idea was hatched in 2001 (I think) and then I actually did it in April 2004. It has been shown sporadically since then, most recently at MIX in NYC a couple years ago.

It didn’t take too long. In a couple of days I wrote a bit of code to help disassemble the movie, then the disassembly took me and another friend three days to complete. It was a manual process but it went very quickly. It was pretty difficult to speak after a day of disassembly! It really messed with my head. The credits took another day. I had to wait for the right moody clouds to show up where I live so I could re-shoot the sky pan that lies under the credits. In total no more than a week of work.

DM: I really love the rhythms that are created by some of the most oft-repeated words. And there are some long passages of wordlessness. Could you talk about what edit criteria other than the alphabet you followed, or were those decisions more intuitive?

MB: The editing criteria were simple and strict. Alphabetical then chronological. The only subjective decisions were about how to spell things like screams and breathing. I consulted a friend, James Sturm, who co-founded the cartoon school here in town about some of these since they appear in cartoons all the time.

DM: You dug around in the guts of a classic piece of popular art, one that people know intimately already. How did the process transform your view of the film?

MB: My appreciation for the film increased enormously, mostly in a technical sense while disassembling. I saw and heard things I’d never seen before and which you would only see going frame by frame. I saw how much craft there is in the film. With headphones on and listening to sections over and over I heard how much the soundtrack is edited to sound smooth, for instance. I had no idea what the final result of my edit would be. I had concern that it’d just be a mess, but on first play that concern evaporated into laughs, screams, jumping up and down and astonishment. I got pretty excited!

Interesting discovery: there are less than a thousand unique words in the film. Most words are used only once. Also, there are mistakes! And people are finding them and letting me know, some angrily! Amusing. I guess that’s what happens when you mess with a classic.
 

 
Via Negativland’s Facebook page

 
I couldn’t find much about 19th century German artist Heinrich Lossow’s “smutty” alaphabet. In fact, I could only find one single online source that had all of Lossow’s dirty typeface together on one page. Perhaps there’s a reason why: these illustrations are also credited to a French artist namedJoseph Apoux. According to Apoux’s brief Wikipedia page, the series is called Erotic Alphabet and date back to 1880.

Heinrich Lossow (1843-1897) was known for his Rococo-style paintings and pushing the envelope when it came to inserting pornographic details into his paintings. The most notable one being The Sin, circa 1880. French artist Joseph Apoux had the same reputation as Lossow.

In the end, I’m going with Joseph Apoux as the one responsible. There’s slightly more information pointing towards him concerning these naughty letters.

 

 

 
More after the jump…
 

 
Introducing his song “Alma” on his 1965 album That Was the Year That Was, Tom Lehrer, referring to the song’s subject, Alma Mahler, quipped: “It’s people like that who make you realize how little you’ve accomplished. It is a sobering thought, for example, that when Mozart was my age, he had been dead for two years.”

Fortunately, that particular comment can’t be made about David Bowie, who is still with us, and at the age of 68 (he turns 69 in four days) there’s no risk of making any jokes about his early demise.

However, some clever person has decided to create a website dedicated to shaming the paltry accomplishments of your life when compared to that of David Bowie. The site is called What Did David Bowie Do at Your Age? The way it works is, you type in your current age, and then it spits out something that Bowie was doing at that age.
 

 

Here are a few examples:

When David Bowie was 17:
He released his first ever release, “Liza Jane/Louie Louie Go Home” in June 1964, under the name of “Davie Jones with The King-Bees”.

When David Bowie was 29:
He starred in the film “The Man Who Fell to Earth” by director Nicolas Roeg.

When David Bowie was 34:
He created the hit “Under Pressure” in collaboration with Queen, which was later included in the 1982 Queen album “Hot Space”.

 
As the person running the website says, “This page is to celebrate David Bowie, and remind us to get out of our comfort zone and start doing shit.”
 
Here’s a scorching version of “Stay” on the Dinah Shore show, which happened almost precisely 40 years ago to the day. The date of the show was January 3, 1976:

Godzilla vs. Mothra poster artwork by Noriyoshi Ohrai, 1992
 
A prolific Japanese illustrator and oil painter since the early 60s, Noriyoshi Ohrai has created works of art for almost a dozen different Godzilla films dating back to 1984, as well as countless other films such as Star Wars, The Goonies and 1981’s Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior,  to name just a few. Ohrai’s bold, sci-fi illustrations have also graced the covers of fantasy and horror books and video games—most notably the pioneering video game Metal Gear.
 

Godzilla vs. Biollante movie poster by Noriyoshi Ohrai, 1989
 

The Goonies movie poster by Noriyoshi Ohrai
 
Sadly, Ohrai passed away at a hospital on the island of Kyushu in Miyazaki, Japan in October of last year at the age of 79. Since his passing, there have been many tributes and a few large retrospectives held in honor of the artist whose stunning work will be instantly familiar to you, even if Ohrai’s name is not.

If Ohrai’s name is familiar to you, it is likely thanks to Star Wars creator, George Lucas who commissioned Ohrai to design international posters for The Empire Strikes Back (see it here). If you happen to find yourself in Japan, the Parko Gallery X is hosting a show featuring Ohrai’s Godzilla paintings, illustrations and sketches through January 17th. The show will also feature Godzilla tribute artwork by illustrator Yuji Kaida.
 

Godzilla movie poster by Noriyoshi Ohrai, 1984
 
Plenty more after the jump…

 
Yes, because God had nothing better to do that day than ask you two nitwits about your private planes.

Here’s five nauseating minutes of televangelists Kenneth Copeland and Jesse Duplantis defending their use and ownership of private planes. It was God’s will that Grandma’s Social Security check would be siphoned off towards these gentlemen’s need to travel in style and comfort. I mean, what if they came into contact with demonic DEMONS in a municipal airport? You can’t have that! It’s God’s will.

Send them your money.

 
via reddit

 
Today’s post is about the new book The White Nationalist Skinhead Movement: UK & USA, 1979 - 1993 released last month by Feral House publishing.
 

 
It should be noted that the use here of the term “Nazi Skinhead” is my own broad-brushstroke, informed by being at numerous ‘80s punk shows ruined by “White Nationalist Skinheads”—sometimes at the wrong end of a Doc Marten. This is not a term used by the authors of The White Nationalist Skinhead Movement to describe their subject.  Having just admitted my own bias on the topic of “Nazi Skinheads,” let me add that as a student of the history of youth subcultures and countercultures, I am endlessly fascinated, as a topic of study, by the Skinhead movement and its extreme right-wing offshoots.

When I first heard that Feral House was publishing the definitive guide to Nazi Skinhead history, my curiosity was piqued because I was fairly certain they would get it right. Feral House’s Lords of Chaos: The Bloody Rise of the Satanic Metal is the go-to reference on the Satanic fascist Black Metal scene and is an absolutely compelling read. I was hoping for a similarly riveting examination of the White Power Skinhead scene.

Before going into where the book succeeds and fails, I feel the need to point out that the title, The White Nationalist Skinhead Movement: UK & USA, 1979 - 1993, may be a bit misleading. The book is more specifically a history of the “Rock Against Communism” (or RAC) music scene than an overview of Nationalist Skinheads as a political counterculture. Indeed, the original (more appropriate) title of an earlier self-published version of the book was When the Storm Breaks: Rock Against Communism 1979-1993.

It should also be noted that the majority of the enormous 610 page book is devoted to the British RAC scene. Only about 60 pages at the end of the book discuss the American RAC bands, and seems to be an added afterthought compared to the extremely well-researched history of the UK bands such as Skrewdriver, and Brutal Attack and their ilk. Actually “well-researched” is kind of an understatement. And that leads me to the pros and cons of The White Nationalist Skinhead Movement —which are mostly one in the same.
 

 
When an author goes about compiling information for the definitive history of a subject—particularly a subject they may have an affinity for—they are forced to decide between paring that knowledge down to a narrative which would make for a fascinating read to the novice, or sharing every shred for the like-minded obsessive seeking an authoritative reference. Authors Robert Forbes & Eddie Stampton took the latter route here. The wealth of information culled from interviews and historical records (mostly fanzines, naturally), would be a boon to those already immersed in the White Power music culture—not simply your basic Nazi Skinhead, but your Nazi Skinhead music über-nerd. If you are a member of this small target-audience, then you will likely find no fault with this weighty tome. If you happen to be taking all of this in as someone with a passing interest in the history of the Oi! music scene and its racist offshoots, then you are likely to become bored with plowing through the minutae of every RAC gig and band-member change. Because it’s ALL in there. I’ll be honest, this book was a struggle for me to make it through—simply because it was just TOO MUCH. Sure, it’s fascinating to see how the popularity of a group like Skrewdriver unfolded from their beginnings as an “apolitical” punk band, through line-up changes, to finally finding a rabid audience among White Power Nationalists; but entire portions of interviews with scenesters are reprinted describing “what it was like the first time I saw Skrewdriver,” when one or two pull quotes would have sufficed. The whole premise is bogged down under the weight of trying to include EVERYTHING.
 

 
The authors seem close to their subject matter. One of them perhaps too close for comfort, if you are the sort of person who is a stickler about giving your money to those who hold opposing ideologies to your own. According to this review of When the Storm Breaks, “Eddie Stampton is involved with the Nationalist movement, Robert Forbes writes from a neutral position, intrigued by the subject but not involved in the dogma.”

The end of the book contains the following disclaimer:

The political views expressed in this book may or may not necessarily be those of the authors. No hatred is aimed at any people or races mentioned within, however, for realism when relating to certain events or situations, the authors feel some quotes from others will need be entered into the text to make the mood or feelings of those at said events or situations as true as possible. The authors must stress their own aversion to any acts of hatred or violence towards others. This book is a historical commentary, nothing more and nothing less.

At the same time, the front of the book contains a “Rest in Peace” dedication to notable Nazi Skinheads, including Clive Sharp of No Remorse, Ian Stuart of Skrewdriver, and Nicky Crane (famously violent Skinhead who later came “out” as homosexual). Some may be bothered by the inclusion of such a dedication, while others will overlook it in the interest of having an authentic insight.

Continues after the jump…

 
Overdoing it on New Years Eve is an old, old story, and I’m sure almost all of us over drinking age and plenty of us below it know it well. Taking care of hangover business on the morning after is a rich vein of lore going back centuries; willow bark, milk thistle and all other kinds of exotic flora turn up in that historic lode of iffy advice. My own preferred remedy is more modern: a Pedialyte Advanced Care/Alka Seltzer Plus cocktail, which may sound gross but my hand to the GODS that shit’s a hangover nuke. But the tried and true hot shower/hot coffee/greasy diner breakfast/lots of water is still a champion move, if a bit mundane. And if you’re just an irredeemable imbiber, the hair of the dog that bit you rarely fails, though it’s ultimately just a delay tactic, really.

DM has blogged about a fair few hangover remedies in our distant and more recent past, but we’ve not yet shared a true classic—Agent Dale Cooper’s advice to the ailing Sheriff Harry Truman. You can be forgiven if you missed it, it’s from the 18th episode (out of 22) of the ill-fated second season of Twin Peaks, at which point even a lot of die-hards had tuned out on the show. (The also the episode with the ultra-quotable Agent Cole line “THAT’S THE KINDA GIRL THAT MAKES YOU WISH YOU SPOKE A LITTLE FRENCH!”)

Here’s the clip. We hope it helps, and whether you over-celebrated or didn’t partake at all, we hope you have a great 2016.
 

 
Via Welcome to Twin Peaks, of course

Humphrey Bogart on the set of 1951 film, The African Queen with his buddy, Gordon

As I’m sure many of you are right now preparing for tomorrow, a day when you will be attempting to brush away vodka-coated cobwebs from your eyes, I thought it would be fun to share some stories and images of some of the best-known boozers and professional drunks in history. One is amazingly still with us, and the others have sadly long since gone on to the great barroom in the sky. I’m going to start this post off with one of my favorite mythical drinkers, Academy Award-winning actor, Humphrey Bogart.

Here’s Bogie (pictured above) on the set of the 1951 film that won him that Academy Award, The African Queen. While Bogart played the part of a gin-guzzling riverboat captain, Charlie Allnut, in real life he didn’t show a particular affinity for any one kind of liquor, but seemed to love them all, especially Scotch. While most of the cast and crew of the The African Queen fell ill during the filming (which was shot on site in Uganda and the Congo in Africa), Bogart was claimed that he didn’t get sick, and whenever a fly bit him “it dropped dead” thanks to his steady diet of beans, canned asparagus and Scotch whisky. Bogart’s fascinating life and love affair with booze is beautifully detailed in the 2011 book, Tough Without a Gun: The Life and Extraordinary Afterlife of Humphrey Bogart (which I highly recommend you read if you are at all a fan of Bogart).
 

Hunter S. Thompson
 
Easily known as one of history’s most irresponsible consumers of booze and drugs is much loved and often hated gonzo journalist, Hunter S. Thompson. As well known for his contributions to the literary world as he is for his rabid intake of alcohol, Hunter enjoyed his all of his vices in excess - whether it be booze, amyl nitrate, cigarettes, guns or women. If it was bad for you, Hunter always had a lot of it around. A drunk after my own heart, Thompson was known for ordering several drinks at a time so he didn’t have to wait for a refill.

If you’ve ever read any of Thompson’s work and are also acquainted with documents concerning his actual life , it quickly becomes clear that his “fictional” exploits were much more close to the actuality of his day-to-day life on the edge. What more could you expect from a man who lived for sleeping late, having fun, getting wild, drinking whisky, and driving fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested? That’s right. Nothing.
 

Keith Richards and his ever present bottle of brown liquor
 
As I mentioned, many of the subjects in this post are unsurprisingly no longer among the living. There are a few notable, now (mostly) reformed booze-hounds still celebrating birthdays and among them is Keith Richards. Keef turned 72 on December 18th and like Ozzy, many refer to Keith as a “medical miracle” of sorts. After reading Richard’s 2010 memoir Life, I felt like I needed to check into rehab after digesting his tales regarding his daily, decades long diet of Jack Daniels and cocaine.

Like many vice-loving individuals, Keith periodically dried out here and there through the years. But 2006 wasn’t one of those times. While filming Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Keith was so loaded on set that it became director Gore Verbinski’s “job” to get Richards’ to “sit up properly.” To anyone who suspected Keith was playing “method” in that film, congratulations! Take two drinks.
 

Pablo Picasso in his studio with a few bottles of the “Green Fairy”
 
Painter Pablo Picasso’s weapon of choice was absinthe and he drank it in alarmingly large quantities. For a time absinthe was a drink only available to the wealthy. But once it was available for mass consumption, even poor starving artists such as Picasso could afford to ride the “green fairy.” Although absinthe became prohibited in many countries in the early 20th century, it remained legal in Picasso’s home base of operations, Spain. In 2010, Picasso’s painting “The Absinthe Drinker” (which if you look at it long enough might make you feel drunk) sold for over 50 million dollars. And as we were just speaking of medical miracles, the hard-drinking Picasso lived to the ripe-old age of 92. Ceremoniously, on his deathbed, Picasso’s parting words were, “Drink to me, drink to my health. You know I can’t drink anymore.”
 

Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor knocking a few drinks back
 
Probably one of the most famous drunks in Hollywood, it was rumored that actor Richard Burton could throw back four bottles of vodka a day. In 1972 while filming Under Milk Wood, Burton “cut back” to one bottle a day telling director Andrew Sinclair that he “wasn’t drinking” on his film, which to Burton translated to a deviation away from his normal “three or more” bottles a day.
 

Elizabeth Taylor having a drink on the set of the 1963 film, Cleopatra
 
Together with Burton’s on-again/off-again drinking partner, Elizabeth Taylor, the pair brought new meaning to the phrase “life imitating art” in the 1966 film, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Taylor wasn’t as much as a heavy drinker as Burton, and he tried to hide his penchant for drinking vodka for breakfast from her during their two marriages. Burton’s tragic relationship with alcohol is excruciatingly detailed in the 2012 book, The Richard Burton Diaries. If you’d like to get the bed spins without having to drink like Burton, you can just read some of the excerpts here.
 

Charles Bukowski in his happy place, in bed drinking with a pretty doll
 
As there is no shortage of our alcohol-fueled war stories out there that concern all too many of our heros, I’m going to cap off this post with a man who is as synonymous to drinking as anyone else in the history of booze—poet and raconteur, Charles Bukowski. There’s a bar in Prague named for Bukowski who entices its patrons with not only the best cocktails in Zizkov, but also having the “cleanest toilets.” There’s also the Bukowski Tavern in my old hometown of Boston whose website will tell you about “Today’s Fucking Specials” which include “White Trash Cheese Dip” and the “Bukowski Mad Dog,” which is just a hotdog made cooler by attaching Bukowski’s name to it. Neither of which, with all due respect, would have been frequented by Charles Bukowski.
 

 
But as food is not a topic drunks much care for anyway, let’s talk about Buk’s liver-drowning drinking habits. When times were good financially, like any drinker, his apartment would be stocked with expensive wine and whiskey. When he was broke, he’d turn to cheap beer for comfort. Like most people, Bukowski started experimenting with booze when he was a teenager and it is strongly rumoured that while he was writing his first novel, 1971’s Post Office, that he would down two six-packs of beer and follow that up with a pint of Cutty Sark. Bukowski once wrote that all he really wanted to do was stay in bed and drink saying that “when you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.” And on that note, I bid you dear Dangerous Mind reader, a Happy New Year. Res ipsa loquitur - Let the good times roll.

h/t: Modern Drunkard