Post by petrolino on Aug 22, 2020 23:40:54 GMT
Punk Bass : Innovators & Technicians
Richard Hell (Neon Boys / Television / The Heartbreakers / The Voidoids)
"We cannot fully recount the glory of rock ‘n’ roll sans the narrative of the bassist, singer, composer, novelist, journalist born Richard Lester Myers. Following frustrating stints with the Neon Boys, Television and Johnny Thunders’ Heartbreakers, Richard Hell helmed a groundbreaking ensemble which fulfilled his artistic vision, The Voidoids.
With the late great guitar virtuoso Robert Quine, guitarist Ivan Julian, and drummer Marc Bell – Hell waxed one of the most influential albums in any era of rock – Blank Generation (1977). To my ears, Hell’s bass artistry evokes comparison to his UK peer Tom Robinson, as both employed rudimentary lines with angular rhythms that embellished their poetic disposition.
A musical and fashion innovator with his signature spiked hair and torn safety-pinned haberdashery – Hell sartorially swayed the punk movement. The artist recalls in his memoir (I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp / 2013) an incident wherein Blondie brain-trust Chris Stein observes an image of the Sex Pistols and opines to him – “Here’s four guys who look just like you!”
Even the late punk impresario Malcolm McLaren admitted to copying Hell for both the Pistols and his legendary London boutique Sex.
With the late great guitar virtuoso Robert Quine, guitarist Ivan Julian, and drummer Marc Bell – Hell waxed one of the most influential albums in any era of rock – Blank Generation (1977). To my ears, Hell’s bass artistry evokes comparison to his UK peer Tom Robinson, as both employed rudimentary lines with angular rhythms that embellished their poetic disposition.
A musical and fashion innovator with his signature spiked hair and torn safety-pinned haberdashery – Hell sartorially swayed the punk movement. The artist recalls in his memoir (I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp / 2013) an incident wherein Blondie brain-trust Chris Stein observes an image of the Sex Pistols and opines to him – “Here’s four guys who look just like you!”
Even the late punk impresario Malcolm McLaren admitted to copying Hell for both the Pistols and his legendary London boutique Sex.
After the release of The Voidoids’ aforementioned seminal collection and the long-delayed follow-up Destiny Street (1982), Hell drifted from the music business for a myriad of reasons; however his vital contributions to the annals of rock ‘n’ roll endure."
- Thomas Semioli, Bass Player
'The Plan' - The Voidoids
Ivan Kral (Luger / Blondie / The Patti Smith Group)
"Ivan Král briefly played with Blondie in the mid-’70s before beginning his long tenure with Patti Smith Group. The composer, producer, and guitarist co-wrote many songs with Smith, most notably “Dancing Barefoot,” from the 1979 album Wave. Král also performed on and wrote for Smith’s debut album Horses (1975), Radio Ethiopia (1976), Easter (1978), and the live album Exodus (1994), recorded in the ’70s.
In addition to his work with Smith, Král wrote songs performed by Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Eastern Bloc, and others. In 1976, Král released a documentary of the local New York punk scene titled The Blank Generation. The film—directed by Král and Amos Poe—features footage of Blondie, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Talking Heads, Ramones, Wayne County, and more."
In addition to his work with Smith, Král wrote songs performed by Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Eastern Bloc, and others. In 1976, Král released a documentary of the local New York punk scene titled The Blank Generation. The film—directed by Král and Amos Poe—features footage of Blondie, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Talking Heads, Ramones, Wayne County, and more."
- Madison Bloom, Pitchfork
'Kimberly' - Patti Smith Group
Fred Smith (The Stilettoes / Blondie / Television / The Roches / Peregrins)
"Marquee Moon.
Forty five minutes and thirteen seconds of genius.
I know, I know, there's a work of genius hailed in just about every record company press release, but it's a term easily thrown at this week's New Thing and very rarely as justified as it is here. This is music which is at once strangely-familiar and completely alien. It's beautiful, graceful, powerful, fractured, smart and driven, and it's a massive rush from start to finish.
A look at the front cover gives you no idea at all what lies in store: what looks like three rock musicians and a geek with a thousand-yard stare. But this is Tom Verlaine, and he's looking into the future. This is Tom Verlaine and soon you will realise that just about all of the guitar players that you've ever heard were, somehow, missing the point. He and Richard Lloyd will mark this album for all time as one of the great electric guitar records.
Forget all those bands where, halfway through yet another second-rate rock'n'roll plod, the rhythm section will keep time while the guitar player acts out some masturbatory fretboard fantasy. There is nothing in this album which doesn't seem to belong. Wherever the guitars and vocals go, the whole thing is held together by Billy Ficca's wonderful drums and Fred Smith's elegant, almost-understated bass lines. Just as the really great guitar players know when to play nothing, the great drummers know when to hold back and when to be there."
I know, I know, there's a work of genius hailed in just about every record company press release, but it's a term easily thrown at this week's New Thing and very rarely as justified as it is here. This is music which is at once strangely-familiar and completely alien. It's beautiful, graceful, powerful, fractured, smart and driven, and it's a massive rush from start to finish.
A look at the front cover gives you no idea at all what lies in store: what looks like three rock musicians and a geek with a thousand-yard stare. But this is Tom Verlaine, and he's looking into the future. This is Tom Verlaine and soon you will realise that just about all of the guitar players that you've ever heard were, somehow, missing the point. He and Richard Lloyd will mark this album for all time as one of the great electric guitar records.
Forget all those bands where, halfway through yet another second-rate rock'n'roll plod, the rhythm section will keep time while the guitar player acts out some masturbatory fretboard fantasy. There is nothing in this album which doesn't seem to belong. Wherever the guitars and vocals go, the whole thing is held together by Billy Ficca's wonderful drums and Fred Smith's elegant, almost-understated bass lines. Just as the really great guitar players know when to play nothing, the great drummers know when to hold back and when to be there."
- Keith Allison, The Wonder
'The Dream's Dream' - Television
Dee Dee Ramone (Ramones)
“Dee Dee Ramone was the archetypical f--k-up whose life was a living disaster. He was a male prostitute, a would-be mugger, a heroin user and dealer, an accomplice to armed robbery -- and a genius poet who was headed for an early grave, but was sidetracked by rock ‘n’ roll.”
- Legs McNeil, 'Lobotomy'
- Legs McNeil, 'Lobotomy'
'Now I Wanna Be A Good Boy' - Ramones
Billy Rath (The Heartbreakers / Street Pirates)
"Billy Rath replaced original Heartbreakers bassist Richard Hell in 1976, prior to the recording of the band's only studio album, 1977's 'L.A.M.F.' Although the record was far from a critical or commercial hit, the group caught the eye of the Sex Pistols, who invited them to travel on the Anarchy Tour, which also included the Damned and the Clash; unfortunately, what should have been an opportunity quickly devolved into a disaster, as all but a handful of shows ended up being canceled (due at least in part to pressure from local politicians along the tour's route).
The Heartbreakers broke up in 1978, but reformed periodically for reunion gigs, and Rath walked away from the lineup -- and rock 'n' roll in general -- in the mid-'80s.
The Heartbreakers broke up in 1978, but reformed periodically for reunion gigs, and Rath walked away from the lineup -- and rock 'n' roll in general -- in the mid-'80s.
"I disappeared in 1985 for health reasons or I would have probably died as was rumored," he explained in a 2011 interview. "What I did was go back to school. I now have a BS in Psychology and a Masters in Theology. I was helping/counseling people with alcohol/drug addiction. I also became a minister and pastored a few churches helping people find a better way to live."
- Jeff Giles, Ultimate Classic Rock
'Chinese Rocks' - The Heartbreakers
Tina Weymouth (Talking Heads / Tom Tom Club)
"On the cusp of her teenage years, Tina Weymouth, a California native, found an unexpected musical outlet: at 12, she joined a prestigious youth music group called Mrs Tufts’ English Handbell Ringing Group, which travelled across the mid-Atlantic United States performing medieval melodies and wearing Elizabethan garb. Yet her interests soon shifted to less archaic genres, namely rock ‘n’ roll and folk. A self-taught musician, Weymouth found inspiration in artists like Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul & Mary. In 1971, Weymouth met her future husband (and band mate) drummer Chris Frantz, while studying at the Rhode Island School of Design, where they shared a painting studio. Four years later, Talking Heads officially formed in New York City, and Frantz and Weymouth married in 1977 (and remain together, romantically and musically, to this day).
The trio’s pioneering sound, with its nods to funk, African, and Brazilian music, and eccentric onstage antics – from David Byrne’s oversized suits to Weymouth’s memorable dance moves – brought them widespread acclaim and multiple records. However, it wasn’t until 1981 when the band took a breather that Weymouth found a sound all of her own. That year, she and Frantz co-founded Tom Tom Club, named in homage to the Bahamian dancehall where they rehearsed for the first time while on hiatus from Talking Heads, and released their dreamy, sonically dynamic and highly danceable debut record to rave reviews. It’s a testament to Weymouth’s talent that club favourite Genius of Love, which has been sampled by countless artists, including Mariah Carey and Grandmaster Flash, remains a timeless classic in 2017."
The trio’s pioneering sound, with its nods to funk, African, and Brazilian music, and eccentric onstage antics – from David Byrne’s oversized suits to Weymouth’s memorable dance moves – brought them widespread acclaim and multiple records. However, it wasn’t until 1981 when the band took a breather that Weymouth found a sound all of her own. That year, she and Frantz co-founded Tom Tom Club, named in homage to the Bahamian dancehall where they rehearsed for the first time while on hiatus from Talking Heads, and released their dreamy, sonically dynamic and highly danceable debut record to rave reviews. It’s a testament to Weymouth’s talent that club favourite Genius of Love, which has been sampled by countless artists, including Mariah Carey and Grandmaster Flash, remains a timeless classic in 2017."
- Olivia Aylmer, AnOther
'Warning Sign' - Talking Heads
Gerald Casale (Devo / Jihad Jerry & the Evildoers)
"I had four siblings, but Bob was my closest brother in age. We were born four years apart and we bonded very, very early on. We also loved the same sort of music when we were young. We got really great radio stations out of Detroit, so we were listening to a lot of Motown and R&B and Chicago blues. That was our true love other than big pop music hits like the Rolling Stones and the Beatles and Kinks and James Brown.
Bob was a self-taught guitar player. I started playing bass when I was 17. He began playing guitar when he was 15 and I had gone onto college. His first band was a surf band called the Wipeouters. We didn’t see each other much in that period.
We hooked up as musicians when I was in graduate school. We started talking about these Devo concepts and I started infecting him with the Devo bug. Mark Mothersbaugh and I got serious about our concepts so we enlisted our brothers. I talked my brother Bob into it and Mark talked his brother Bob into it. Suddenly, we were a real band. We never played together until we started jamming as Devo in 1974.
When Bob graduated from high school he went into radiology and became a radiologist technician. For the first three or so years of the band, he was leading a double life between Devo and his work as a radiologist. He even came into one of the gigs at The Crypt in his scrubs. A lot of people told Bob to stop playing in Devo in those early days. Luckily, he had trust. That’s one of at the advantages of brothers. He didn’t accept disrespectful assessments of our experiments. We were feared and objects of derision all at the same time. They felt sorry for us in a way. We couldn’t even get a date.
Devo was certainly, in the beginning, a true unit. We were the Five Musketeers. It took everyone’s energy and everyone’s contributions, whether or not they wre the primary songwriters. Of course, Mark and I wrote all the songs, but without Bob Mothersbaugh and Bob Casale those songs would have never been fleshed out into full Devo expressions. What people liked about us was that we were playing as if we were a machine. But we were playing for real with no click tracks, no sequencers or anything in the beginning. People didn’t believe what they were hearing. It was so tight, like white robot versions of James Brown’s Famous Flames. It really took Bob’s style of guitar playing to complete that, both Bob’s. They could play very staccato very exactly. They both had the willingness to play lines that no self-respecting guitar player would play because that’s not how you use a guitar."
Bob was a self-taught guitar player. I started playing bass when I was 17. He began playing guitar when he was 15 and I had gone onto college. His first band was a surf band called the Wipeouters. We didn’t see each other much in that period.
We hooked up as musicians when I was in graduate school. We started talking about these Devo concepts and I started infecting him with the Devo bug. Mark Mothersbaugh and I got serious about our concepts so we enlisted our brothers. I talked my brother Bob into it and Mark talked his brother Bob into it. Suddenly, we were a real band. We never played together until we started jamming as Devo in 1974.
When Bob graduated from high school he went into radiology and became a radiologist technician. For the first three or so years of the band, he was leading a double life between Devo and his work as a radiologist. He even came into one of the gigs at The Crypt in his scrubs. A lot of people told Bob to stop playing in Devo in those early days. Luckily, he had trust. That’s one of at the advantages of brothers. He didn’t accept disrespectful assessments of our experiments. We were feared and objects of derision all at the same time. They felt sorry for us in a way. We couldn’t even get a date.
Devo was certainly, in the beginning, a true unit. We were the Five Musketeers. It took everyone’s energy and everyone’s contributions, whether or not they wre the primary songwriters. Of course, Mark and I wrote all the songs, but without Bob Mothersbaugh and Bob Casale those songs would have never been fleshed out into full Devo expressions. What people liked about us was that we were playing as if we were a machine. But we were playing for real with no click tracks, no sequencers or anything in the beginning. People didn’t believe what they were hearing. It was so tight, like white robot versions of James Brown’s Famous Flames. It really took Bob’s style of guitar playing to complete that, both Bob’s. They could play very staccato very exactly. They both had the willingness to play lines that no self-respecting guitar player would play because that’s not how you use a guitar."
- Gerald Casale, Rolling Stone
'Blockhead' - Devo
Jeff Magnum (Dead Boys)
"Here’s where the Dead Boys started for me. They were the first punk rock band I ever saw. In November 1976, I came down to Boston from Maine — I was attending college there — and tried to catch gigs. It so happened the Dead Boys, who had yet to record their debut album, were at the Rat one night and that’s where I ended up with about 50 other people. It was my good fortune. Punk was starting to gain strength.
I’d heard about shows like this — Iggy and the Stooges were infamous for them — but at age 20, I’d never seen anything like it. Stiv Bators was all over the stage, caterwauling and sneering. He cut his bare chest with a broken beer bottle, put his head inside Johnny Blitz’s kick drum, pretended to hang himself with the mic cord — all while the band churned out this nasty, catchy, furious punk rock, songs like “Sonic Reducer,” “Down in Flames” and “All This and More.” The songs — angry, raw and oddly empowering — were new to me and sucked me in immediately.
I’d heard about shows like this — Iggy and the Stooges were infamous for them — but at age 20, I’d never seen anything like it. Stiv Bators was all over the stage, caterwauling and sneering. He cut his bare chest with a broken beer bottle, put his head inside Johnny Blitz’s kick drum, pretended to hang himself with the mic cord — all while the band churned out this nasty, catchy, furious punk rock, songs like “Sonic Reducer,” “Down in Flames” and “All This and More.” The songs — angry, raw and oddly empowering — were new to me and sucked me in immediately.
“People weren’t used to that sort of thing,” Cheetah Chrome says now, looking back at those days. “In a way, it was a lonely existence. We had kind of a rough time because of it. People thought you were weird every place you went. We kind of carried it with us.”
Chrome says they never talked about what the Iggy Pop-inspired Stiv was going to do or what his game plan was for the night’s show. “Some nights he’d lose it,” says Chrome, with a slight laugh. “He did some things that didn’t work quite so well, and he was like, ‘Well, I won’t never do that again!’ Like he’d pull my guitar cord over and the amp would come with it across the stage. Sometimes he would go crawling through the drums and knock them out of the way so we couldn’t play and we’d have to stop and fix them. We’d all be standing around for five minutes.”
Chrome says they never talked about what the Iggy Pop-inspired Stiv was going to do or what his game plan was for the night’s show. “Some nights he’d lose it,” says Chrome, with a slight laugh. “He did some things that didn’t work quite so well, and he was like, ‘Well, I won’t never do that again!’ Like he’d pull my guitar cord over and the amp would come with it across the stage. Sometimes he would go crawling through the drums and knock them out of the way so we couldn’t play and we’d have to stop and fix them. We’d all be standing around for five minutes.”
- Jim Sullivan, The ARTery
'Ain't It Fun' - Dead Boys
Tony Maimone (Pere Ubu / They Might Be Giants)
"I know a lot of drummers who can play to anything. I always thought that in a lot of ways Scott Krauss was a really uncompromising drummer, who could only play if he felt a certain way about something, and I always respected and admired that."
- Tony Maimone, Nadir-Novelties
'Street Waves' - Pere Ubu
Tim Wright (Pere Ubu / DNA)
"The sound of DNA changed when Tim Wright joined the band – he played bass, while his predecessor in the group was a keyboardist – and the trio influenced subsequent punk and underground rockers, including Sonic Youth."
- Erin Coulehan, Rolling Stone
'Heart Of Darkness' - Pere Ubu
Jay Bentley (Bad Religion)
"Dee Murray's talent for finding the lines in a piano-led band are phenomenal. Elton John had a pretty mean left hand, which freed up a lot of space in the middle of the fretboard that I think Dee used very tastefully. He may have been the first player I absolutely recognized as "refrained."
- Jay Bentley, There's Something Hard In There
'White Trash (Second Generation)' - Bad Religion
Lorna Doom (Germs)
"The Germs – whose classic lineup comprised Lorna Doom, Don Bolles, singer Darby Crash and Pat Smear, who later joined Nirvana and is currently in Foo Fighters – formed in 1976. The group released its influential album, (GI) in 1979. Produced by Joan Jett, the album has been heralded by Rolling Stone as one of the “Greatest Punk Albums of All Time.” However, with only one full LP under their belt, the Germs disbanded in 1980 after Crash committed suicide via a heroin overdose."
- Althea Legaspi, Rolling Stone
'Lexicon Devil' - Germs
Chuck Dukowski (Würm / Black Flag / October Faction / SWA / The Chuck Dukowski Sextet)
"If Chuck Dukowski had only played on, say, Black Flag's first 6 releases – and he DID – he'd already be a music legend. Hell, if he'd only written Black Flag's "My War" – which, again, he did – he'd make the history books. But there's much more to the guy than that. Chuck also helped run (and co-owned) the SST label from approximately 1978-1989, the core period which saw the label make its name as the most important American independent label of the 1980's, releasing records by the likes of Husker Du, Minutemen, Meat Puppets, Saccharine Trust, Saint Vitus, Sonic Youth, Bad Brains, Dinosaur Jr. and many more, and was, according to Henry Rollins, the great brains trust, "attitude man" and motivator within that milieu (with all due credit to Greg Ginn!).
But of course, there's also his history with his first band, sludge-metallers Wurm, and his post-'Flag outfit SWA, a band whose hard-rock fury still divides fans and remain a love-'em-or-hate-'em proposition."
But of course, there's also his history with his first band, sludge-metallers Wurm, and his post-'Flag outfit SWA, a band whose hard-rock fury still divides fans and remain a love-'em-or-hate-'em proposition."
- Dave Lang, Perfect Sound Forever
'What I See' - Black Flag
Klaus Flouride (Dead Kennedys)
"Geoffrey Lyall, aka Klaus Flouride, hails from Detroit, Michigan. Fascinated by early rock and roll records by Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis, and many others, he picked up the guitar as a teenager and began playing in bands. The switch to bass occurred in 1968 after moving to Boston and playing in a power trio. For roughly a decade, Klaus went back and forth between Boston and New York with various bands and as a freelance player. In 1977, he moved to San Francisco and found a new musical home in the punk rock scene. Klaus responded to a magazine ad by East Bay Ray, auditioned, and shortly thereafter, Dead Kennedys came to be."
- Ryan Madora, No Treble
'Ill In The Head' - Dead Kennedys
Mike Patton (The Middle Class / Eddie And The Subtitles)
"If you’ve ever found yourself stuck in a room with a bunch of record collecting nerd types arguing over who was America’s first Hardcore Punk band, the name of Santa Ana California’s Middle Class had to be thrown around more than once. Their debut seven-inch EP from 1979 Out of Vogue is considered by many to be one of the precursory, blueprint records for the Hardcore scene along with Bad Brains Pay to Cum, Stimulators Loud Fast Rules and Black Flag Nervous Breakdown."
- Tony Rettman, VICE
'Mosque' - The Middle Class
Roger Rogerson (Circle Jerks / The Secret Service Band)
"A founding member of the Circle Jerks, Roger Rogerson perhaps had more musical skills (he was classically trained as a guitarist) than most of his peers in the LA underground, but he was wrecked by a combination of a bi-polar diagnosis and years of drug and alcohol abuse. There was also the issue of his wildly unpredictable personality."
- Carlos Ramirez, No Echo : Hardcore, Metal And Everything In Between
'Operation' - Circle Jerks
Derf Scratch (Fear / The Werewolfs)
"Derf Scratch — real name Frederick Milner — founded the band in 1977 with singer Lee Ving, more or less abandoning his job as a realtor (where he worked with both of his parents) and sneaking off to practice while pretending to be out looking at properties. The group released the single “I Love Living In The City” later that year. A band so rough-and-tumble that it would openly goad its audiences into trying to fight them, Fear developed a reputation as one of the most hardcore acts in a city teeming with them — a reputation that was secured once director Penelope Spheeris documented one of their sets in The Decline Of Western Civilization, during which the group duked it out with the crowd before ever playing a song. Decline also featured a scene where Scratch immortalized the phrase, “Eat my f*ck.”
- Sean O'Neal, The A.V. Club
'Foreign Policy' - Fear
Kathy Valentine (Girlschool / The Violators / The Textones / The Go-Go's)
"I love that when you hear the Go-Go's music, it doesn't necessarily sound '80s. It might not sound real modern, but it doesn't sound dated. It's weird to me that the '80s were so long ago. And it's weird to me that I'm part of nostalgia now."
- Kathy Valentine, Pop Matters
'You Thought' - The Go-Go's
Mike Watt (Minutemen / Dos / Firehose / Unknown Instructors / Floored By Four)
"The Minutemen are a fascinating band and Mike Watt and the Minutemen are so very clearly THE defining influence for the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
The Minutemen play concise songs that combine frenetic energy, complex basslines, whimsical lyrics, discordant effects, engaging tension & release, driving beats, shredding guitar solos and a blurring of punk and funk music; pretty much the exact same components that define the Red Hot Chili Peppers. In their career high-point endeavor, the Minutemen amazingly released a 43-song album Double Nickels on the Dime, which despite an average song length of about one minute (ah now I get it, the “Minutemen”), contains almost entirely complex and interesting compositions."
The Minutemen play concise songs that combine frenetic energy, complex basslines, whimsical lyrics, discordant effects, engaging tension & release, driving beats, shredding guitar solos and a blurring of punk and funk music; pretty much the exact same components that define the Red Hot Chili Peppers. In their career high-point endeavor, the Minutemen amazingly released a 43-song album Double Nickels on the Dime, which despite an average song length of about one minute (ah now I get it, the “Minutemen”), contains almost entirely complex and interesting compositions."
- Ryan Dembinsky, Glide
'Joe McCarthy's Ghost' - Minutemen
Bass Duo
Bruce Loose (Flipper) & Will Shatter (Negative Trend / Flipper / Any Three Initials)
"The original quartet — singer and bass player Will Shatter, guitarist Ted Falconi, singer and bass player Bruce Loose, and drummer Steve DePace — played music that was soon notorious. Their slow, glacial groove, Falconi's wall of noise guitar style, the interlocking bass lines of Loose and Shatter, and the relentless timekeeping of DePace's drums created a new, unfathomable style. With decades of hindsight, they can be recognized as the first post-rock band, or the forefathers of the grunge rock movement. At the time, their rhythmic, avant garde noise got them tagged as the band you love to hate."
- J. Poet, East Bay Express
'Shed No Tears' - Flipper
Alternating Bass Duo (Utilising Various Modulating Instruments)
John Piccolo (The Shirts / Chemical Wedding) & Robert Racioppo (The Shirts)
"A first album had been well-received in many countries (if not at home). Basic living standard or not, it was time for the second. For this ingenuously enthusiastic, musically ambitious and positively-thinking group, personal support from EMI London in the late seventies was caring and unconditional. Those were the days when workers at a large corporate record company could feel free to respond on a personal level and make a difference. From this distance, it seems increasingly incomprehensible that a large corporation could exhibit such indie-record company responsiveness: not any more. I dimly remember going out to Heathrow Airport with A&R boss Nick Mobbs and a couple of other company people to pick up and greet the Shirts after their New York flight on arrival at Heathrow at 9am, arriving for their first album recording. Getting up at such a time has always been a serious endeavor for any music type, but we all did it without a second thought.
I also dimly remembered another early morning getting-up at the sh*t-house (as it was affectionately known) Shirt House, under the crippling influence of jet-lag and a hangover. CBGB’s club needed to be seen to serve food to keep its liquor license, one aspect of a continuing cat-and-mouse game with the New York City regulatory authorities. Since there wasn’t much call for fine cuisine (the dreadful Phebe’s down the Bowery being the recovery room of choice) there was usually a surplus of raw material at the end of the long night. Balanced on one of the gas stove burners were an aluminum pan and a wodge of good-looking hamburger meat. The pan was on the stove, where it belonged. The meat was underneath it. Domesticating the Shirts never seemed a viable option."
I also dimly remembered another early morning getting-up at the sh*t-house (as it was affectionately known) Shirt House, under the crippling influence of jet-lag and a hangover. CBGB’s club needed to be seen to serve food to keep its liquor license, one aspect of a continuing cat-and-mouse game with the New York City regulatory authorities. Since there wasn’t much call for fine cuisine (the dreadful Phebe’s down the Bowery being the recovery room of choice) there was usually a surplus of raw material at the end of the long night. Balanced on one of the gas stove burners were an aluminum pan and a wodge of good-looking hamburger meat. The pan was on the stove, where it belonged. The meat was underneath it. Domesticating the Shirts never seemed a viable option."
- Mike Thorne, The Stereo Society
'Triangulum' - The Shirts
Bass Unit
Fred Smith (The Stilettoes / Blondie / Television / The Roches / Peregrins)
Ivan Kral (Luger / Blondie / The Patti Smith Group)
Gary Valentine (Blondie / The Know / Essential Logic)
Frank Infante (Sniper / Blondie)
Nigel Harrison (Silverhead / Blondie / Chequered Past)
"I had known about the occult vaguely from horror films and comic books and things of that sort, but I'd never taken a real interest in magick and the more obvious occult sort of things. But when I was first playing in Blondie in New York in 1975 I was living with Chris Stein and Debbie Harry in this little flat in Little Italy, [and] Chris had this sort of kitschy interest in the occult and black magick and voodoo and Debbie was vaguely into it as this kinda "funny thing". Chris had quite a few books and paraphernalia and there was this one book by an English writer named Colin Wilson called The Occult — a huge history of it from a sort of philosophical point of view. It was very readable and it made it very interesting to me. I was always a big reader, reading tons of books; I just borrowed it and pulled it off the shelf and was fascinated by it.
There were also books floating around like Diary of a Drug Fiend. Aleister Crowley was this kind of figure because he was still around from the 60s. The 60s picked up on him as a kind of proto-hippy and his stuff was floating around as debris. The idea that he took lots of drugs was very encouraging to us. Gradually from there it became a fascination — I read more and more about it and took a more serious approach to it.
I was involved in a few rituals many, many years ago when I was living in Los Angeles in the late 70s. I got involved in a Crowley group there. I had the robe and the incense and I practiced some of the rituals. I was involved in what is called a gnostic mass and my expectations were "OK, here's where the wild sex orgies and drugs take place," but it was a rather calm sober affair and nothing much happened.
I do remember one time, when I was moving back and forth from New York to Los Angeles, I was going to do some ritual and in preparation for it I fasted and took a vow of silence for a day. I was walking around New York going to all the places I normally go to and running into a lot of people and when I wouldn't talk to them they thought I was out of my mind. I couldn't go the next day and say 'Oh the reason I didn't talk to you was because of my vow of silence' — that would probably make it worse.
When I was living in LA in in this Crowley group, they had these salutations you'd do three times a day — at dawn, at noon and at sunset. Once my girlfriend and I were in a coffee shop and it was noon and I had to do this thing and she was completely red in the face. It definitely put a damper on our love life. You should try things, check them out, and if they work for you move on to the next thing."
There were also books floating around like Diary of a Drug Fiend. Aleister Crowley was this kind of figure because he was still around from the 60s. The 60s picked up on him as a kind of proto-hippy and his stuff was floating around as debris. The idea that he took lots of drugs was very encouraging to us. Gradually from there it became a fascination — I read more and more about it and took a more serious approach to it.
I was involved in a few rituals many, many years ago when I was living in Los Angeles in the late 70s. I got involved in a Crowley group there. I had the robe and the incense and I practiced some of the rituals. I was involved in what is called a gnostic mass and my expectations were "OK, here's where the wild sex orgies and drugs take place," but it was a rather calm sober affair and nothing much happened.
I do remember one time, when I was moving back and forth from New York to Los Angeles, I was going to do some ritual and in preparation for it I fasted and took a vow of silence for a day. I was walking around New York going to all the places I normally go to and running into a lot of people and when I wouldn't talk to them they thought I was out of my mind. I couldn't go the next day and say 'Oh the reason I didn't talk to you was because of my vow of silence' — that would probably make it worse.
When I was living in LA in in this Crowley group, they had these salutations you'd do three times a day — at dawn, at noon and at sunset. Once my girlfriend and I were in a coffee shop and it was noon and I had to do this thing and she was completely red in the face. It definitely put a damper on our love life. You should try things, check them out, and if they work for you move on to the next thing."
- Gary Valentine, The Quietus
'Atomic' - Blondie
The Singing Bassist
John Doe (X / The Flesh Eaters / The Knitters)
'Universal Corner' - X