Archive for garage rock

Moved by Dolly Rocker Movement! Curious About Burning Man.

Posted in Goof & Glamour, I Heart Friends, I Heart My Love-Tribe, I Heart Steampunk, punk rock, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2010 by alphabetfiend

The Robot Boy has a very old dear friend who has completely dedicated his life to an ever-evolving discovery of cool music. This is not a quest that Bruce takes lightly. He’s a punk-monk who eschews anything that might distract him from his destiny as rock & roll omen seeker. He has exquisite eclectic taste and I would follow him anywhere. When Bruce tells you to check out a new band or replay an old band you rush to do it. Something dreamy awaits. 

 

So when Bruce borrowed our car and returned it with a CD in the player, we hit play and hiked the volume. 

 

The CD was a Bruce-made mix of songs by The Dolly Rocker Movement. A new band that feels old. 

 

Now, for my fellow night owls,  as a little friday night into saturday morn’ 3:00 a.m. treat,  I offer you “Coffin Love” by The Dolly Rocker Movement. The song is set to the most amazing shots of a Burning Man fest. This clip is worth it for the visuals alone. I’d assumed that Burning Man had become just another hippy raver scene, having lost all vestige of its former mystery. I’m blown away by the sort of mythic Mad Max steampunk aesthetic and all these odd chitty chitty bang bang machines. It looks like a strange dream with cosmic-circus-steampunk-gypsy elements combining in a sort of A-bomb fairytale. 

This video was artfully done by www.tribalturk.com , a Turkish fan-zine site that’s worth poking around on even though the text isn’t in English. It’s a really cool site, I’m impressed with their aesthetic. 

A steampunk tree house

 

 Have any of you been to Burning Man? Was it really this beautiful, eerie and elaborate? Did it really have that PK-Dickian sci-fi steampunkery? Recently? How recently? Did you have any transformative dream-like experiences while there? After seeing this video, I’m crazy curious. I was so sure that Burning Man had devolved into yet another mushroomy melee, y’know, just naked hippies in the desert and if anyone read my last post (born on a commune, lived in a cave) then you’ll understand that I’ve had my fill of that. But now I see these beasty-machines and steampunk tree houses, winged motorcycles and tattered circus tents … have I made a major miscalculation here? I must have!   

So comment! You architects of steampunk treehouses! You dirt-bike PKD! You saint of steel & dust! I wanna hear from you! Is Burning Man the place for a cosmic clown, side-show siren, bearded lady, steampunk seductress, Lipstick Shamaness such as myself? 

 

Speak, my sweets, my freaks, my night owls…. C’mon baby ring my bell. All ya hafta do is ring my bell!

What’cha Gonna Do About It?

Posted in Fur Reals, punk rock, Rock & Roll with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Small faces, secret mohawks…

The song “What’cha Gonna Do About It” by The Small Faces is so punk rock! Especially considering that it dates back to the incense & peppermints of 1965. (The original BBC recording rocks much harder than the more radio-friendly American version.)

The song is the size of a fist and packs a big emotional punch.

I want you to know that I love you, baby
want you to know that I care
I’m so happy when you’re ’round me
but I’m sad when you’re not there

what’cha gonna do about it?

I want you to give me your sweet sweet kisses
want you to hold me tight
I want you to come whenever I call you
and let me walk you home at night

what’cha gonna do about it?

Such a sweet little co-dependent love song…

You hafta wonder if maybe the singer oughtta just get a dog. Canines come when called and they’re always up for walks!

I love those old-school rock & roll challenges. McCartney howling on the Beatles’ White Album, “Why don’t we do it in the road?” Or Union Carbide’s Ebbot Lundberg daring us to ring his bell.  

If you want me all you hafta do is try ta ring my bell! Ring my bell ring my bell ring my bell ring my bell! Ding dong ding ding dong ding dong ding ding dong.

Makes me wanna get naked in the dark and go down on my lover beneath a glowing street lamp. Makes me wanna ring that fucker’s bell like I’m banging Marc Bolan’s gong. Hell yea! Get it on! Bang a gong! Get it on!

Speaking of my loverly Ebbot, I dug up this awesome footage of Union Carbide performing  “Ring My Bell” in 1988.

Ebbot’s just a kid in the video: all shirtless, thuggish, writhing and sexy as shit. Damn!  TSOOL fans will be surprised to see Lundberg looking so very different from his current Soundtrack of Our Lives incarnation: tunic clad, Buddha belly, guru delivery. Hey, I’m not dismayed, no way. A few extra pounds is just more to love when it comes to geniuses like Jim, Elvis, or Ebbot. My rockstars are welcome to get as fat and as furry as they fucking like.

I love Ebbott as is but it’s still pretty cool seeing him — in motion — as a young punk. Those pounds, those years, they’ve been kind. He still dances with that same snaky gleam.

The Make Up’s “Save Yourself” (Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel)

Posted in Goof & Glamour, SPOOKY KABUKI, Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 2, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“I was frozen baby, cold to the touch, limbs from other bodies, I didn’t look like much, I was nothing baby and my blood was cold til you put your mouth to me and blew right out my nose. I was just a body until you gave me life and now I walk the earth… you’re my Dr. Frankenstein, oh yea.” — The Make Up

 

Creation, transformation, resurrection. Second chances, new life. Being saved. Saving yourself. Betwixt our birth and our death are countless itty-bitty births and do-over deaths. We bloom, we wither, we bloom again. Our existence is filled with entrances and exits. We hover in silky cocoons (regrouping, rethinking, investing, in wait) and then the itch between the shoulder blades — a surprised unfurling! The cocoon cracks open and we emerge with wings like Frida paintings. This REANIMATION is the persistent miracle of human experience. The hurt and the heal… a progression of spirit.

“If I’m alive now then I was dead, though like a stone unbothered by it. Staying put according to habit.”  Sylvia Plath

“I wept because I had lost my tears and I was not yet accustomed to their absence.” Anais Nin

“Hopeful as a lizard pulling clean from an old skin.” Barbara Kingsolver

” ‘Oh my god’, she cried, ‘I never knew what it meant to be real! I never let the sweetness or the horror or the dignity penetrate my brain.’ ” James Douglas Morrison

“There was preserved in her the fresh miracle of surprise.”  JDM (Yes, the Lizard King.)

The above quotes may be slightly off, a word here or there, as I have plucked them from my 4am brain. By now they are practically prayers… I’ve carried them for 20+ years as though they were the secret to the universe. Each letter a bead on my pixie stick rosary, each word a bone in my girl-body spine. They are MINE. Please appreciate what I am sharing. The recipe for my prize-winning ee cummings “eyes big love crumbs” cookies. I am letting you sleep in my luxurious bed — with me in it, taking up voluptuous room. We snooze bum-to-bum and dream of clouds shaped like raucous church organs. I am letting you hold the golden compass; you are stroking the orangey-pink pelt of my fox familiar. I have stocked the freezer with cherry jubilee. I am lulling you to sleep with my krishna chant; your bedtime story is the dream I’m already asleep & dreaming. Listen! The Make Up is ROCKING a dark smoky club; the stage flickers with hypnotic illuminations; Ian writhes and testifies! We dance in the rhythmic hive, the crowd abuzz, and I let you (why I hardly know yee!) grind your soft-pulse-stiffening against my ass of greedy proportions. DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM HOLDING IN MY HAND? I am offering you a sequin mer-scale plucked from my tailbone, the edge jagged from once it laid, crusted with DNA. If you were a hoodoo huckster, you could perpetrate some voodoo violence. But you would never be so profane. Safe from cruel eye curses, the sacrosanct flesh-rind of my fish-femme sacroiliac.

“Why,” you may ask, “is all that worth this goddamn much to you?”

Because!!!!!

We are all unbothered stones who recognize the magnitude of our death once suddenly alive. All cried out and cringing in the new light, with headachey eyes that flooded & keened until all that was left was life. Again. Anew. We have all called out with a great A-HA! as the mystery comes into focus. We have all sworn to never lose the profundity of that moment. But it blurs as it must — midwife to the A-HA! Above all things, I have lived to be that girl of continuous surprise. For that extraordinary seizing BONK! to be preserved in me. A yellow canary named “Eggyolko-ono” in my rib cage — a JOLT! of snapping flapping feathers. As a girl wonder, adrift and alive, all my aspirations fall under that umbrella which — POP! — has just opened with a dandy’s flourish.

This shit is SPOOKY KABUKI, it’s the very essence of Punk Rock Gospel. The Make Up even describes their sound as “Gospel Yea-Yea.”

 

The Make Up– totem band for an Alphabetfiend! A carnie-queen lipstick shamaness circus freak! Hell yea! Let’s undulate! It’s a glam saint rosary rock speaking in tongues writhing snake-handler deep south baptist punk psalms sound…. oh yea-yea ya-ya.

Discord Records testified to the band’s spirited synergy:

Make-Up’s performances have been characterized by the freneticism, catharsis and spirituality of what can only be described as GOSPEL MUSIC. They are a total departure from the boring pantomime of rock ‘n’ roll as we know it, inflicting a sublime theatre on their audience which resembles a baptism, or perhaps an orgy. Their ‘singer’ is typically employed as a lead-chanter, while the others perpetrate a rhythmic drone on the subjects of their “Rhythm Hive”.

a fresh puff of powder, a smear of cherry gloss, a coat of black mascara… a new look, a new start, a new way. Transformation is the order of the day with The Make Up’s Rock & Roll HOLLER. HELLO!

“When I see you again, I hope that you have been the kinda person that you really are now.” Sly Stone

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