Jet Rock 'N' Roll Dreams

A long cherished dream came true last night! I finally saw Guitar Wolf in concert! They played the Knitting
Factory with Cheap Time!

As often happens when my dreams cross over into reality, I spent most of the night screaming. In this case it was because the show was loud and fun as I ever imagined and I can now die happy.

It was a little disappointing that Guitar Wolf's mic didn't shoot real flames like in Wild Zero. Maybe the Knitting Factory said no. But three encores more than made up for a lack of literal pyrotechnics. During the second one, Guitar Wolf/Seiji/Most Amazing Frontman Ever got a few members of the audience to climb up and form a human pyramid at the very edge of the stage. It was so that he could climb to the top of the pyramid and have someone pass him the mic so he could finish singing "Koukosei Action." This man is an icon of bad ideas.

Finally, a memo: the members of Guitar Wolf are allowed to wear leather pants. You are not.

All Photos Credit: Ann Yoo. Thanks again.

New York Shitty

I know I said I wasn't posting for awhile but the Nobunny show at Cake Shop last night was messed up and I need to talk. I missed Fostercare, but Daddy Long Legs and Apache were super cool and fun. Especially Apache, masters of the micro-genre I will call comedy garage rock. (Quote of the set: "Can we get some more beer in the mics?")


But, through no fault of Nobunny's own, his set turned weird and disturbing. And not in the awesome way that you expect. There were some technical difficulties early on with instruments and mic stands falling apart but that didn't seem to be too much of a problem. Nothing our heroes can't handle, even with the spotty vocals. I didn't care. I was there to feel the love, the laying on of grimy hands, as it were. Nobunny wasn't feeling the love, hard as he tried.


Some young dudes (and a young lady) up front had gotten pretty riled up during Apache's set and had turned the foot of the stage into a mini mosh pit. Broken glass appeared underfoot, seemingly out of nowhere. This is a bit odd for a Nobunny show, or almost any garage show really, and it was harshing what was left of the bunny's mellow. He requested that the aggro scene disperse and get a clue (my words) and this led to an immediate and significant improvement in the ratio of girls to boys happily bopping around up front. (This golden ratio is generally a major perk of garage shows vs. some other punk flavors.)


Everything seemed fine until someone launched a paper deli bag of shit onto the stage. Presumably, the perps were the banished moshers. Presumably, the feces belonged to one of them. I saw the thing sail onto the stage clipping Nobunny on the thigh, just below his slightly-too-tight briefs.

It was an attractive crowd last night, but it didn't smell pretty, so I did not at first connect the ensuing odor with the projectile. When Nobunny left the stage to dispose of the bag I still had no idea what was going on.  When the horrifying reality penetrated my power-pop addled skull, it seemed the show was over, and ending on the lowest note possible. Situations like this aren't good for my misanthrotonin levels, which are dangerously high under normal circumstances, and I can only imagine how Nobunny felt about things. But he went on to finish the set with "Chuck Berry Holiday," movingly demonstrating that one monkey really don't stop no show. Even if that monkey is in fact flinging poop at you. "Nobunny loves you."


Is he coming back? I don't know. (I hope so.)

 So we're all on one page when he does come back:

Only Fake Twitters are Fun

Nick Nolte


Mickey Rourke


Gary Busey

Yellow Mellow

Riding around in a cab all day is a great way to unwind, provided one is riding shotgun free of charge and it is a nice day. Make friends with someone who drives a cab. That's my advice to you.

This is my cabdrivin' buddy Gil:

And this is all the money he makes:

Seriously though, this guy actually gave him a tip that included quarters. The man was headed to that new car show. He said, "I like to buy cars." It seems the recession isn't affecting everyone.

But it's cool. Gil derives a lot of enjoyment from his job. He really gets into meeting new people from all over the world and comparing notes on life and cabs with them. After each fare, he jots down a quick observation on the people he picked up. He intellectualizes the New York driving experience on a very intense level and reports his findings on his blog Taxicab Almanac of NYC, which I'm a big fan of.

Here's Gil trying to educate me about the flags of the world:

Too bad the weather was so fine that I had turned my brain off and converted it into a solar cell. He explained the flags outside the UN were in alphabetical order and challenged me to identify the ones at the end. I just started naming African countries starting with Z at random. (At least I can do that.)

The intoxicatingly sweet weather was bad news for Gil too, because, on a mild day in spring, no one wants to take a cab if they can walk. Rainy days make for rich cabbies. Still, we met interesting people hailing from Los Angeles to Jakarta. I had to explain to each in turn that I was just a friend and that the cab was open and in service. Even though I was in the front seat, it tended to throw people off.

My favorite part of the Taxicab Almanac of NYC/Bad Idea Potluck mash-up day was discovering that Gil (who I have known since high school) now has real cabbie rants stashed up his sleeve. Apparently, this is an art form you learn in cab driving school. Or acquire in the cab driver's lounge at the airport in between games of backgammon and dominoes. You should hear his rant on modern day "advanced care" toothbrushes. "They look like athletic shoes! I want a toothbrush, not a pair of sneakers!" (He only likes the .99 Walgreen's brand variety, but they are hard to find.)

If you get in his cab one day, say something interesting. It might wind up on the Internet.

Recession Reminder

Here's a Bad Idea Potluck icon if there ever was one. Pictured above is Hank. He is more or less the patron saint of this blog. Or at least we would like him to be. He did write us an advice column once.
I could say more, but I think Las Vegas artist Keri Schroeder really captured the man and the message here in this portrait.

One for the Bad Idea Potluck Quote Book

It took me a long time to finish reading Carson McCullers' The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. A friend gave it to me when I was in college and that was a presidency or two ago. It's a beautiful story, but the pacing mirrors the way time passes in the kind of depressed Southern town where the story takes place.

It all paid off for me toward the end as Mick Kelly, a bright young teenager with an intense inner life, sits in a cafe contemplating the shit job she has taken at Woolworth's to support her family. As she enjoys her ice cream and beer, she thinks:

"Next to music beer was best."

Um, it's possible that you have to read the whole thing for that sentence to have the proper impact. Fortunately, you can surely get a copy at your local independent book retailer. The edition I read is pictured above. It has the best illustration on the cover of all editions I have seen.

Oh, it's love

You should have seen my "fuck yeah" face when I played Betty Davis' Is It Love Or Desire for the first time yesterday. She was a legendary but mysterious figure to me until yesterday and she might have remained so if not for Light in the Attic putting out this previously unreleased album. Now I have to hear everything she's ever been involved in or connected to. That might mean some jazz fusion but I'm not afraid.

Seriously, I was listening on my headphones walking around Candler Park and I kept having this feeling that I was going to be arrested for listening to this stuff in public.

Satan's Angel is America

I've been a little heavy on the naked lately and I know that but the bad idea icon for the month of September is still Satan's Angel, one of the official old-time legends of burlesque and still performing.

She's also famous for one of the best bad ideas of all time: she lights her tassels on fire and twirls them around, with style. She calls it "tatas flambe" and even encourages others in this through instructional videos. Bad Idea Potluck is dizzy with admiration.

Screaming Lord Sutch, 3rd Earl of Harrow

Screaming Lord Sutch is March's Bad Idea Potluck icon. He is famous for dressing like Jack the Ripper and running for British Parliament. As you can see from this video, he also had a way with a rock n' roll song. By all accounts, his theatricality prefigured that of Alice Cooper, making him sort of a missing link between Cooper and his own inspiration Screamin' Jay Hawkins.



Okay, maybe this video really just demonstrates why he's the icon of the month.

I like this obit on him in the Dead Musician's Directory:

http://elvispelvis.com/lordsutch.htm

Bad Idea Icons: Feb. Edition

Sort of a pied piper for mistakes,Bad Idea Dinosaur is a character in Cat and Girl,one of my favorite web comics. His blank, devil-may-care expression is at once enchanting and frightening. And it somehow makes you want to follow him where ever he is going and get a snazzy crowbar like his.

You can buy the T-shirt shown above for loved ones and struggling bloggers here.

Bad Idea Icon of the Month

Dorothy Parker is the supreme patron saint of Bad Idea Potluck and thoroughly embodies all our highest aspirations. Not least because she was a much greater writer than the quotes and comical poetry for which she's famous would lead you to believe.

Still, this poem remains my chant for dark hours:

They say of me, and so they should,
It's doubtful if I come to good.
I see acquaintances and friends
Accumulating dividends
And making enviable names
In science, art and parlor games.
But I, despite expert advice,
Keep doing things I think are nice,
And though to good I never come
Inseparable my nose and thumb.
— Dorothy Parker