Reading The Flamethrowers

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elle-the-flame-throwers-de-mdnRachel Kushner’s novel about life in New York in the late 70s is really lively. Her protagonist lived on Mulberry Street in the late 70s, between Spring and Prince. I lived on Mulberry between Prince and Houston. This is a book with historical resonance for me, and dissonance when something is wrong, since Rachel Kushner most definitely was 10 years old when the action was going down.

Not much is wrong, but there is a subplot about a revolutionary group called the Motherfuckers that pushes credulity. A chapter is devoted to their “actions,” including robbing banks, that seem appropriately cool rather than outrageous. Except for this one action:

“Beat up a rock band from Detroit called the Stooges. Beat the shit out of them for not being tough enough, and having a reputation for intensity though it was unearned. The Stooges had played at a rock club on Second Avenue, and just after their set ended word spread that the band was piling into their limousine and heading off to Max’s Kansas City for dinner with rich people and celebrities. The crowd became enraged, dragged the singer and his bandmates from their limousine and forced them back inside the club. The Motherfuckers concentrated on pummeling the singer and then pissed on his satin pants. Which he was still wearing as he lay on his side, groaning. Not quite in the same way he had groaned and yowled onstage, trying to peddle his fake intensity to the young girls, among them Love Sprout and Nadine, Fah-Q’s and Burdmoor’s respective womenfolk. Fah-Q and Burdmoore crossed streams of urine over the body of the singer, and Burdmoore knew that brotherly pacts ended badly. But he was in it to the end. He was ready for badly.”

Gaming Spotify.

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A band needed money to tour. Which makes sense, since album sales are nothing. And touring costs money.

They made an album of short songs with no noise, called it Sleepify, and posted it on Spotify. Then had friends of the band play the record over and over. Repeat and repeat. Slowly, the royalty rate added up to a full tank of gas. Now that’s rock.

Brilliant, and unsustainable. Have a great time on the road.

Breakfast Blend: Peter Callandar is Dead.

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When I think of the worst song of all time I think of two songs that played incessantly in the storm window factory I worked in the summer after I graduated from high school. That would be Paper Lace’s “The Night Chicago Died” and Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods’ “Billy Don’t Be A Hero.” Both had lyrics written by the Englishman Peter Callander, may he rest in peace. The music for these two 1974 No. 1 hits can be credited to Mitch Murray. It should be noted that Paper Lace did a version of Billy Don’t Be a Hero that is not as good as the Heywoods’ version.

Night Interview: Bob Dylan

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Bob Dylan hasn’t done many interviews with major television, so this one with 60Minutes for CBS was significant.

Enjoy. What he says is important. So are other things.

LINK: My Husband’s Stupid Record Collection

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Screenshot 2014-03-18 17.09.21A wife decides for some reason (I haven’t gotten to the beginning yet to learn why) to listen to all the albums in her record fan husband’s record collection and “review” them in a Tumblr called My Husband’s Stupid Record Collection. Her style is kind of cute, kind of cloying, sometimes funny, like the picture here. I don’t have an opinion yet.

She’s just started reviewing the Bs, and that led to a review of the B52’s eponymous debut elpee. She’d never heard Dance This Mess Around and is suitably impressed.

Her husband sometimes makes comments. He’s clearly a cool guy who seems unphased by explaining why he has free jazz in his record collection. He also recommended this cover of Rock Lobster by deadhorse, which was never released on vinyl so it’s okay to listen on YouTube:

Night Music: The Rolling Stones, “Brown Sugar”

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I read on some website today that Mick says this is the song he could not write today. As for the lyrics, absolutely, but to marry them with such a killer riff is perverse. 

Scott Asheton RIP LAMF

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www.youtube.com/watch?v=-U7lfbada-Y

 

 

RIP: Scott Asheton

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He was the only drummer the Stooges had until he was cut down by a stroke a few years ago. And while he stopped touring he still played. He died today, some five years or so after his brother Stooge and brother brother Ron died of a heart attack.

Iggy released a statement saying he’d never heard any drummer play with more meaning than Scott, which sounds perfect.

Lunch Break: The Clash, “Stay Free”

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In the midst of the Punkmania, a film was released called Rude Boy. It was kind of like the Clash’s Hard Days Night, about a roadie working with the band on tour. Except much more of the movie was about the roadie than the band. I haven’t seen it since seeing it in a theater in 1978 or so, but it was a rough movie with a pretty good heart. A rock movie about a band of stars that focused on the workers who supported them.

Good stuff, not hurt by the fact that the band was making great music. This is apparently a clip from the movie, though the production values seem stronger than I remember. Whatever. This song from Give ’em Enough Rope is epic and emotional (sentimental too) and rocks, as well.

NIGHT MUSIC: The Clash, “Guns on the Roof”

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After success, our boys are conflicted. Issues erupt, involving drugs and guns. They’ve been in court and are obliged to tell the truth, the whole truth.

The band’s second album seethes with rock arguments for their acting out and recognizing (but not apologizing) that maybe they’ve crossed the line. Embarrassed by misdemeanors? I suspect yes, even though this song makes no apologies.

“I like to be in Europe man, say goodbye to everyone.” That’s dark.