Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tit Patrol Tour Journal 11/19-11/22
Tit Patrol just got off an amazing mini-tour and are currently re-adjusting to stupid real life, which we hate. It started in Philly on Thursday night at J.R.'s, a tiny little bar with really cool staff. They were very cool to us, and it is cheese steak adjacent with a Phillip's stand right across the way! So the Tit got all greased up and played a great show with the Brown Bag Trio, One Short Fall, and the Slotcars. Andy and King from the Sheckies were also there and jumped on for a great mini-set with Dave Slotcar on guitar! On the way home, Toddy realized that he had somehow left his guitar. It seemed like the end of Tit Patrol, but Steve, the awesome sound/doorman with the slick 'stache got ahold of us and said I could come pick it up the next day. Luckily, everyone but me had to work that morning so we weren't leaving until the next afternoon. I slid by in the a.m. and grabbed that axe, safely stashed behind a curtain. Thanks ALOT to J.R.'s for still having it!
We congregated at Todd and the Main Man's new pad in New Castle the next afternoon and packed up Grant's mom's SUV. Dude, we need a van, big time, please contribute. We cruised up to New York and got stuck in city traffic, but made it to the Riff in Long Island with plenty of time. This was a great bar with alot of walk in business, all of whom had to pay to see us, so, ahem, we did pretty well that night. The opening band were young teenagers called Here She Comes. I don't know, but I think it may be in reference to the first line of "Femme Fatale" because they covered "What Goes On" by the Velvets. Also, their drummer had a real Main Man thing happening with his spectacles and all. Vinnie from the Scutches, who helped us get the gig, did acoustic Scutches songs and they were great. Vinnie's tunes are super-catchy and he has a wild and really cool voice, and I can't wait for his upcoming "The Sharon Chronicles." Great album title, by the way! Next the Tit did our thing, to the standard great success. At the Riff we conjoined our tour with Kepi Ghoulie. You know the Groovie Ghoulies, part of the pantheon of Lookout(!) Records greatness from the mid and late nineties. We were all big Groovies fans, but I gotta say, Kepi's new stuff is even better. His bassist Dino Girl is a great player with a beautiful voice, and as Tit Patrol will tell you, extremely crushable!! They rocked old and new songs and gave tambourines and maracas to the audience, which Tit Patrol greedily monopolized, and Toddy jumped on the drums for a couple numbers! Kepi also had the best merch. New and old CD's, LP's, EP's, and t-shirts, original art and even Kepi-Couture holiday tree ornaments!
After the show we were headed towards Wheeling, West Virginia for the next night's gig. We had planned on going half way, hitting Harrisburg, PA and getting some flea bag room for the night. Unfortunately, the Holland Tunnel was closed or fucked up or something, and the GPS we were blindly relying on led us into mid-town and off the highway. Toddy was behind the wheel at this point, and his heart did not explode, thankfully. We did get to see some classic "hooker-brand" hookers, with the shiny gold micro mini-skirts and purple fur coats and all, unlike our hookers who just wear like jeans and a Starter jacket. We got as far as Clinton Township New Jersey and hit up the first place we could, a slightly too ritzy Holiday Inn with a pool. The desk clerk saw we were from Delaware, and greeted us "Welcome to the real world." I was tired and cranky so I was like, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" But he lightened up and so did we. Unfortunately we got a non-smoking room with strict warnings about $250 additional rate if any evidence of smoking is found. So we just all crowded into the bathroom, turned on the shower to hot and threw a bunch of good smelling stuff into the tub and hot-boxed that muther, with no one the wiser. We headed out the next morning and hit up the Waffle House, along with an African-American college's step team, and the Main Man picked up the tab. On the way we saw a car on fire on the highway and snapped a great shot.
We got to Wheeling that afternoon and checked into the much more affordable Wheeling Inn, which features a menu of the room furniture with prices, so if you wanna break something you know how much it's gonna cost, very convenient! The desk lady was very band-friendly, telling us she used to work in Miami and saw all the big acts, such as Korn, Fuel, Slipknot, Chlorine, etc... and how she'd get her fourteen year old daughter to meet them. We wondered where her daughter was now. We decompressed for a couple hours, loaded into Yesterday's Draught House and then set off for grub. We decided on the Bridge Tavern, and were not disappointed. The Main Man got hot wings and bacon and eggs, me and Toddy got huge meatloaf sandwiches on white bread with like a quart of brown gravy soaking the whole thing, and Grant got turkey on white with white gravy and mashers, which even the anti-potato Toddy ate and enjoyed. So, with our gravy levels at high we went over to the show. We weren't expecting much because it honestly looked like a ghost town, like Market Street Wilmington after 6 p.m., but the place was pretty packed. The openers were another teenage band called N.F.I., and even though it was an eighteen and older club, they were young enough to need parental accompaniment. They played three Blink songs, four Green Day songs, Nirvana, Sublime, and ended with "Jenny I Got Your Number." We were all really supportive and sang every song (except Sublime), and everybody had a good time, even thought they refered to "Dookie"-era Green Day songs as old-school. There were a bunch of local young girls and young punks who combined '82-style hardcore dress with fashionable haircuts, like the one I have. I got along with these kids really well, and they got the party started in the pit. Tit played next and we were torrid. Grant even did a header off the stage, a la Joey Ramone. Things got kicked up a notch when One Short Fall took the stage and did the best set I've seen them do. The place was electric and wild and me and Grant even had to break up a fight with Grant carrying some flanneled dude out the front door. Kepi headlined and had the place dancing and it would not settle down, even for an acoustic set. It was far to kinetic to take photos.
Afterwards things got a little crazy. Grant had been using mind control on the bartender to receive many free drinks that evening, and this one kid in trendy J-Lo glasses rubbed him the wrong way, so Grant was whacking him in the kidneys. This was infuriating the dude who was complaining that he was offended. Me and the Main Man came out to this, and didn't want anything to happen because that kid had also bought two Tit Patrol records earlier in the night, but he was saying how he and his boys would "take care of it" so the Main Man asked exactly what they would take care of, seeing as how he and I were right there and are both sober and muscly and have unlimited star punches, and the kids agreed that they wouldn't enjoy that and it sort of diffused. Grant took off towards the motel, the Main Man got a beer off this cutey blonde sophomore at WVU, and I went in to help Todd get us paid. Turns out that Grant was hassling some mannequins in a store window with a traffic cone and that glasses guy went down to, I don't know what, so the Main Man went and told the kid to go the fuck home and took Grant back to the hotel parking lot. Meanwhile, I was discovering that someone claiming to be the promoter for the evening had already received the cash from the door. Well, there was no promoter present, so the long and short of it was that someone had stolen the door and none of use were getting paid. WEAK. I went to relieve the Main Man so he could get back to his lady friend and me and I willed Grant to walk into our room and we crashed out. Dan from One Short Fall stayed with us while Brian got some booty and Logie slept in the van. That night we got tussed up and I won three out of four games of R.B.I. 3 off the Main Man.
The next morning we all had tour breakfast together at Uncle Pete's out on the deck. It was a beautiful morning and everybody was in very high spirits despite not getting paid the night before. We drove to Morgantown, WV for the final show of mini-tour at Club Octane. We had some time to kill so we hit up the adult book store and arcade with private and semi-private booths. They had no gay porn, which we thought was discriminatory, but when we saw whippits, crackers, and balloons all in one display, we changed our tune. Tit Patrol spent the next hour reading the free Go-Go Girl newsletter and blowing whippits in the car on Main Street, Morgantown and then joined One Short Fall at the bar with our brains half-melted. The show was great. Kepi and Dino Girl opened up to get the party started and were amazing as always, complimenting the Main Man on his maraca work calling him a modern-day Jerome Green. Praise from Caesar! The Tit and One Short Fall did our things, and then it was time for the locals. First of the two was the Serpent Handlers of West Virginia. I do not recommend seeing them ever. They were trash. A mix of ECW and a G.G. Allin rip-off, they cut their heads and bled profusely while whipping out their minuscule junk, all the while having no bass player and patently boring semi-songs. Very bad. Dino Girl looked like she was gonna puke! After the owner put a stop to it, everything was covered in blood, so the Tit stepped up, grabbed latex gloves from the kitchen and disinfectant and cleaned the mikes and stands and the stage so the last band could play without fear of hepatitis. Though we all had to get going, that band cleared the joint out, so we stuck around and watched the last band, called Days to Come. They were very nice dudes with amazing West Virginia accents who played a metal-hardcore hybrid. We hit the hot dog stand, said our good-byes, and hit the road back to Wilmington with a Kepi soundtrack the whole way.
Thanks so much to Kepi Ghoulie, Dino Girl, Dan, Logie, and Brian (One Short Fall) for being awesome and letting us use equipment, Vinnie Scutch, J.R.'s, the Riff, Yesterdays, Club Octane, Justin from Punk Rock Promo and all my fellow Tits for making this a great experience! Back on the road December 10... you should come.
We congregated at Todd and the Main Man's new pad in New Castle the next afternoon and packed up Grant's mom's SUV. Dude, we need a van, big time, please contribute. We cruised up to New York and got stuck in city traffic, but made it to the Riff in Long Island with plenty of time. This was a great bar with alot of walk in business, all of whom had to pay to see us, so, ahem, we did pretty well that night. The opening band were young teenagers called Here She Comes. I don't know, but I think it may be in reference to the first line of "Femme Fatale" because they covered "What Goes On" by the Velvets. Also, their drummer had a real Main Man thing happening with his spectacles and all. Vinnie from the Scutches, who helped us get the gig, did acoustic Scutches songs and they were great. Vinnie's tunes are super-catchy and he has a wild and really cool voice, and I can't wait for his upcoming "The Sharon Chronicles." Great album title, by the way! Next the Tit did our thing, to the standard great success. At the Riff we conjoined our tour with Kepi Ghoulie. You know the Groovie Ghoulies, part of the pantheon of Lookout(!) Records greatness from the mid and late nineties. We were all big Groovies fans, but I gotta say, Kepi's new stuff is even better. His bassist Dino Girl is a great player with a beautiful voice, and as Tit Patrol will tell you, extremely crushable!! They rocked old and new songs and gave tambourines and maracas to the audience, which Tit Patrol greedily monopolized, and Toddy jumped on the drums for a couple numbers! Kepi also had the best merch. New and old CD's, LP's, EP's, and t-shirts, original art and even Kepi-Couture holiday tree ornaments!
After the show we were headed towards Wheeling, West Virginia for the next night's gig. We had planned on going half way, hitting Harrisburg, PA and getting some flea bag room for the night. Unfortunately, the Holland Tunnel was closed or fucked up or something, and the GPS we were blindly relying on led us into mid-town and off the highway. Toddy was behind the wheel at this point, and his heart did not explode, thankfully. We did get to see some classic "hooker-brand" hookers, with the shiny gold micro mini-skirts and purple fur coats and all, unlike our hookers who just wear like jeans and a Starter jacket. We got as far as Clinton Township New Jersey and hit up the first place we could, a slightly too ritzy Holiday Inn with a pool. The desk clerk saw we were from Delaware, and greeted us "Welcome to the real world." I was tired and cranky so I was like, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" But he lightened up and so did we. Unfortunately we got a non-smoking room with strict warnings about $250 additional rate if any evidence of smoking is found. So we just all crowded into the bathroom, turned on the shower to hot and threw a bunch of good smelling stuff into the tub and hot-boxed that muther, with no one the wiser. We headed out the next morning and hit up the Waffle House, along with an African-American college's step team, and the Main Man picked up the tab. On the way we saw a car on fire on the highway and snapped a great shot.
We got to Wheeling that afternoon and checked into the much more affordable Wheeling Inn, which features a menu of the room furniture with prices, so if you wanna break something you know how much it's gonna cost, very convenient! The desk lady was very band-friendly, telling us she used to work in Miami and saw all the big acts, such as Korn, Fuel, Slipknot, Chlorine, etc... and how she'd get her fourteen year old daughter to meet them. We wondered where her daughter was now. We decompressed for a couple hours, loaded into Yesterday's Draught House and then set off for grub. We decided on the Bridge Tavern, and were not disappointed. The Main Man got hot wings and bacon and eggs, me and Toddy got huge meatloaf sandwiches on white bread with like a quart of brown gravy soaking the whole thing, and Grant got turkey on white with white gravy and mashers, which even the anti-potato Toddy ate and enjoyed. So, with our gravy levels at high we went over to the show. We weren't expecting much because it honestly looked like a ghost town, like Market Street Wilmington after 6 p.m., but the place was pretty packed. The openers were another teenage band called N.F.I., and even though it was an eighteen and older club, they were young enough to need parental accompaniment. They played three Blink songs, four Green Day songs, Nirvana, Sublime, and ended with "Jenny I Got Your Number." We were all really supportive and sang every song (except Sublime), and everybody had a good time, even thought they refered to "Dookie"-era Green Day songs as old-school. There were a bunch of local young girls and young punks who combined '82-style hardcore dress with fashionable haircuts, like the one I have. I got along with these kids really well, and they got the party started in the pit. Tit played next and we were torrid. Grant even did a header off the stage, a la Joey Ramone. Things got kicked up a notch when One Short Fall took the stage and did the best set I've seen them do. The place was electric and wild and me and Grant even had to break up a fight with Grant carrying some flanneled dude out the front door. Kepi headlined and had the place dancing and it would not settle down, even for an acoustic set. It was far to kinetic to take photos.
Afterwards things got a little crazy. Grant had been using mind control on the bartender to receive many free drinks that evening, and this one kid in trendy J-Lo glasses rubbed him the wrong way, so Grant was whacking him in the kidneys. This was infuriating the dude who was complaining that he was offended. Me and the Main Man came out to this, and didn't want anything to happen because that kid had also bought two Tit Patrol records earlier in the night, but he was saying how he and his boys would "take care of it" so the Main Man asked exactly what they would take care of, seeing as how he and I were right there and are both sober and muscly and have unlimited star punches, and the kids agreed that they wouldn't enjoy that and it sort of diffused. Grant took off towards the motel, the Main Man got a beer off this cutey blonde sophomore at WVU, and I went in to help Todd get us paid. Turns out that Grant was hassling some mannequins in a store window with a traffic cone and that glasses guy went down to, I don't know what, so the Main Man went and told the kid to go the fuck home and took Grant back to the hotel parking lot. Meanwhile, I was discovering that someone claiming to be the promoter for the evening had already received the cash from the door. Well, there was no promoter present, so the long and short of it was that someone had stolen the door and none of use were getting paid. WEAK. I went to relieve the Main Man so he could get back to his lady friend and me and I willed Grant to walk into our room and we crashed out. Dan from One Short Fall stayed with us while Brian got some booty and Logie slept in the van. That night we got tussed up and I won three out of four games of R.B.I. 3 off the Main Man.
The next morning we all had tour breakfast together at Uncle Pete's out on the deck. It was a beautiful morning and everybody was in very high spirits despite not getting paid the night before. We drove to Morgantown, WV for the final show of mini-tour at Club Octane. We had some time to kill so we hit up the adult book store and arcade with private and semi-private booths. They had no gay porn, which we thought was discriminatory, but when we saw whippits, crackers, and balloons all in one display, we changed our tune. Tit Patrol spent the next hour reading the free Go-Go Girl newsletter and blowing whippits in the car on Main Street, Morgantown and then joined One Short Fall at the bar with our brains half-melted. The show was great. Kepi and Dino Girl opened up to get the party started and were amazing as always, complimenting the Main Man on his maraca work calling him a modern-day Jerome Green. Praise from Caesar! The Tit and One Short Fall did our things, and then it was time for the locals. First of the two was the Serpent Handlers of West Virginia. I do not recommend seeing them ever. They were trash. A mix of ECW and a G.G. Allin rip-off, they cut their heads and bled profusely while whipping out their minuscule junk, all the while having no bass player and patently boring semi-songs. Very bad. Dino Girl looked like she was gonna puke! After the owner put a stop to it, everything was covered in blood, so the Tit stepped up, grabbed latex gloves from the kitchen and disinfectant and cleaned the mikes and stands and the stage so the last band could play without fear of hepatitis. Though we all had to get going, that band cleared the joint out, so we stuck around and watched the last band, called Days to Come. They were very nice dudes with amazing West Virginia accents who played a metal-hardcore hybrid. We hit the hot dog stand, said our good-byes, and hit the road back to Wilmington with a Kepi soundtrack the whole way.
Thanks so much to Kepi Ghoulie, Dino Girl, Dan, Logie, and Brian (One Short Fall) for being awesome and letting us use equipment, Vinnie Scutch, J.R.'s, the Riff, Yesterdays, Club Octane, Justin from Punk Rock Promo and all my fellow Tits for making this a great experience! Back on the road December 10... you should come.
Kepi Ghoulie @ the Riff in Long Island, NY 11/20/09
Tit Patrol was lucky enough to have Kepi Ghoulie, the singer/songwriter behind the Groovie Ghoulies, and his partner in crime, the incomparable Dino Girl on three dates of tour with us. They were amazing every night, hosting a punk rock hootenanny featuring the Tit on percussion! Kepi's new stuff is better than ever, do check it out! And special thanks to Vinnie Scutch for hooking us up!
The Slotcars and One Short Fall @ J.R.'s in Philadelphia, PA 11/19/09
First night of Tit Patrol mini-tour @ J.R.'s in Philly. The opening band didn't bother to show, so the Brown Bag Trio stepped up and in! Toddy accidentally left his git-box at the bar, but we weren't leaving for NY until the next day, so I went back in the morning and it was totally there! The Slotcars were awesome. We had heard them because they were in the Electric Cave right before Tit Patrol last November, and Joe played us some tunes, but this was the first time we saw 'em live. Awesome short, tight pop punk. One Short Fall would be with us for the rest of the weekend and are our new BFFB (Best Friends Forever Band). Seriously, thanks to One Short Fall for being a great band and great dudes, the Tit had an awesome time hanging out and playing with those guys, and we're gonna do it again ASAP.
The SLOTCARS
The SLOTCARS
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Gold Gloves and Silver Sluggers
Yet another repeat: Phillies shortstop Jimmy "J-Roll" Rollins and center fielder Shane "the Flyin' Hawaiian" Victorino have been named the National League Rawling's Gold Glove winners at their positions. Major League Baseball, by way of voting by league managers and coaches (though they can not vote for their own players), bestows the Gold Glove on the best fielder in each position in both leagues, and Jimmy has won his third in a row, while Shane has his second.
In the olden days of yore, the Gold Glove was most likely given to the player who committed the fewest errors and most helped his team intangibly with his fine defense. Today, such wacky stats as UZR (Ultimate Zone Rating) and RF (Range Factor) are considered. UZR, developed by FanGraphs, determines the number of runs above or below average a fielder is by combining his rankings in "range runs," which quantifies how well a fielder is able to get to balls hit in his vicinity, and "error runs," which takes into account how many errors a fielder makes compared to an average fielder at the same position on the same amount of balls in play. Range Factor, meanwhile, was first developed in 1977 by statistician Bill James, and it represents the number of successful plays a fielder makes per game by combining putouts and assists and dividing that number by innings played. Sorta confusing, but just a more concrete way to more fairly give out the awards in this (slightly post?)-Money Ball era.
As far as the rest of the league goes, my man Carlos "Chooch" Ruiz was robbed behind the plate with the award going to the Cardinal's catcher Yadier Molina, winning his second straight Gold Glove after being an All-Star and compiling some mind-boggling stats, including an ERA of 3.48 for St. Louis pitching when he's the backstop. Also winning for the Cards is Cy Young candidate Adam Wainwright, taking his first. The Dodger's Orlando "O-Dog" Hudson won it at second base (quit throwing balls into the stands Chase Utley!) and Matt Kemp won one of the three outfield awards. San Diego's Adrian Gonzalez won it a first base, beating Albert "Mr. Fucking Perfect" Pujols and a much improved Ryan "Soul Pole" Howard. Washington's Ryan Zimmerman took home his much-deserved first Gold Glove at third base with popularity contest winner, the Mets' David Wright, having an injury plagued season, because he is a Met. Lastly, the final outfield award went to ex-Phil and current Houston Astro, Michael Bourn. We all love Michael Bourn around here. He was the trade that brought Brad Lidge in as our closer, and he is speedy and dangerous and makes every play. Awesome player.
Over in the Junior Circuit, the Twins' Joe Mauer won at catcher, Yankees Mark "Happy Gilmore" Texiera at first base and Derek Jeter at shortstop, the Tiger's and ex-Phillie Placido "Jawbone" Polanco at second base, the Rays' Eva Longoria at third base, Angels' Torii Hunter, Mariner's Ichiro (of course), and B-More O's Adam Jones(!) took the three Gloves for the outfield, and Mark "Perfect Game" Buehrle won on the mound.
Over on the offensive side, only one Phil brings home any hardware. Second baseman Chase Utley won his fourth consecutive Silver Slugger award. He is the cream of the crop and an old school player, great career so far, great season and post-season. I'm glad he's on our side! In the American League, it was the Blue Jays Aaron Hill, who also won the A.L. Comeback Player of the Year Award. Of course Albert Pujols won it at first base, a very tough position and he won it over two guys with more R.B.I.'s than him... not exactly my credentials. But the Silver Slugger credentials are more varied than those of the Golden Glove. Batting average, runs batted in (my personal fave), home runs, slugging percentage, on base percentage, and on base plus slugging percentage! Which is the most important? Well, Albert led in all of 'em except R.B.I.'s. In the A.L. Mark Texiera has the 2009 matching set in Gold and Silver. Atlanta's Brian McCann won it for catcher, and if he hits off other teams like he hits off the Phillies, he deserves it. No surprise that Minnesota's Joe Mauer takes his third SS for the A.L. At shortstop, Florida's Hanley "Hanley, Hanley" Ramirez takes home his second consecutive, while Derek Jeter continues to pile up 2010 post season awards with his fourth Silver Slugger. Over at the hot corner, two SS newbies take the Silver Slugger, as they did the Gold Gloves, Tampa Bay's Longoria and Washington's Zimmerman. Out in the outfield, in the National League, Milwaukee's Ryan Braun gets his second straight while two young Dodger stars, Matt Kemp and Andre Ethier both get their first. In the American League, Seattle's Ichiro takes his third trophy, and known glovesman, L.A. Angel's Torii Hunter gets his first, as does Boston veteran Jason Bay.
Congratulations to all winners, but most especially our Phillies! Great work boys!
What We Do Is Secret
About five years ago I saw a listing on Craigslist looking for punk rock people to come out to L.A. and be extras in the movie they were making about the Germs. Now, I have no particular affinity for the Hollywood punk scene, though as a punk rock historian I appreciate it quite a bit. Still, it was convoluted and short lived, in its original form. In New York in the 1970's, after a couple months in, the press was just picking up on it, so you didn't get less intelligent, less creative, less tortured kids coming out of Long Island after seeing it on the 5 o'clock news and inventing hardcore before the scene could gel. That happened later. But out in Hollywood, they had a comparative scene about a year lagging, so the Sex Pistols had been happening, etc... and fashion punkery had already been engaged. Sure, there were luminaries like X and the Germs, and notable the Weirdos and the Stranglers, but even their best music was deliberate and dirge like, angry and rarely tongue-in-cheek, lacking in the pop sensibilities of their East Coast and English counterparts. You know, albums full of major-chord progression power chords. Worse still was the influx of Orange County, suburban beach punks that dumbed it all down. But still, the Germs, right! When Tit Patrol was living on North Street in Newark, the walls were all spray painted, my breakfast, lunch, and dinner all came in 40 oz. containers, and Video Showplace rented eight VHS tapes for eight dollars for eight nights, so one of our most frequent pick-ups was Penelope Spheeris' "The Decline of Western Civilization", the documentary about the turning of the Hollywood scene from the older artistic nihilists to the younger "get fucked up" crew. The Germs, X, and Black Flag performances are awesome, and the time spent with the bands off stage is even way better, even though the famous scene in which Darby makes breakfast and his "roommate" talks about the dead painter they found was a ruse. Darby's actual roommate was Tony the Hustler, but he didn't want the documentary showing him being gay in any way. In "Decline" Darby Crash is definitely the hero of the movie, but it's a facade. I tried to get Karl to drive me out to Hollywood to audition for the movie, but he had to work, so we didn't do it.
Years later, I'm listening to G.I. and get an inkling to check the Germs movie out. Now, some movies make you uncomfortable in a way that takes away from the film. Todd Solenz's "Storytelling" is a great example. That scene with super-cutie, flat-chested Selma Blair and the large black dude is, for my money, too exploitative and gross. And I like exploitative and gross! "Kids" also is unbelievably sucky in that same "aren't we real, so real and bad" way. Some movies make you uncomfortable in a good way that engages you, "Psycho" being the obvious, and way out of the league, example. "What We Do Is Secret" is not uncomfortable in either of these ways, it's not uncomfortable at all. It's kinda like the Germs meets "Mean Girls." They kept pretty close to the Germs plot as I know it: Two kids gets kicked out of an L.A. hippy Scientology school for "mind control", convincing the other students that they were God and his son, Jesus, they decide to start a band to enact one of their's "five year plan", they recruit valley girls to fill out the band, rename themselves Bobby Pyn, then Darby Crash and Pat Smear, become the Germs (after Nietzsche's "germ of an idea"), play a terrible first show at the Orpheum with the Damned in the audience at which Darby does his best Iggy Pop, gain popularity after Darby cuts the shit out of his chest (also like Iggy) at the Masque, start to draw and incite their audience into riots, make a record produced by Joan Jett, can't get booked due to reputation, Darby breaks up the band and goes to England where he becomes a New Romantic, comes back and forms the Darby Crash Band, who suck, does one more Germs show reunion to make a lot of cash, reveals the telos of his five-year plan as suicide, an intentional heroin overdose, meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, on that same day John Lennon was shot, dooming Darby to obscurity. The whole thing is framed by a pre-suicide Darby interview, conducted by Slash Magazine's Kickboy Face, and Darby narration which is him reading from Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil". He reveals in the interview that his motivation is political, not on a nationwide scale, but on the level of personal relationships. His Germs lyrics are his message, that the only way to succeed on a national or personal level is through fascism, and he is the ideal fascist leader, to his "circle" of friends. Darby is also obsessed with the cyclical nature of things, as shown through the blue "Circle One" Germs logo that he and his band and extended followers wear on armbands or spray paint on the wall or burn into your arm with a cigarette when you are family.
The storytelling of the movie is actually really good, though how accurately it portrays how the characters enacted is in question. They all act like kids, and I guess they were. Unlike the older, more sophisticated New York scene led by artists, poets, and addicts who then made music, these guys were right out of high school, emulating artists and once in a while, becoming one. In Darby's case, relying on the direction of inner demons, and as for the rest of the Germs, it would seem, relying on their belief in Darby and their love of the Germs, in a classic "we're all in this together" mentality. They are all portrayed as wildly naive, babes at Darby's teet, and though he could talk a big game, he was just as naive as anyone. Richard Hell was a manipulator concerned with art and by extension, himself. Darby Crash was a manipulator concerned with himself, and by extension, art. So, they do all this well, and make it well worth watching, but the problem for me lies in this being a movie about punk rock, but not being a punk rock movie. Everybody is a lamb, so tame and self-questioning. The Germs come off as as nice as, or nicer, than me, and far more conservative. When I first heard the story of Darby Crash, it made me uncomfortable. This highly, highly charismatic dude who uses his power to manipulate everyone around him into thinking he is a genius, knowing the whole while he was gonna abandon them all. In real life, he used real-deal mind control techniques derived from L. Ron Hubbard's Scientology, which his high school was theoretically based on, to coerce a group of friends and admirers into a cult-like clique young Darby named Circle One. He idolized Charles Manson, and Circle One was primarily female, and when punk came to Hollywood, this became the Germs fan base. See, in the time elapsed since the seventies, since the first punk rock movement, alot has changed. For one, nothing is musically shocking anymore. The most shocking thing is Lady Gaga because she is pop as fuck but says way iller shit, better said, than Britney Spears or even Saves the Day ever would. What I would consider shocking is a fully functioning real rock and roll band that is all new, all now, but fully aware of their place in American Cultural history. What else has changed is that it is definitely not cool to have minions anymore. It is very not punk rock. Using your charisma to manipulate yourself into a darling persona, no matter how deconstructed, is passe, and not fun at all. What's cool is a non-self aware self-derivative persona that would organically line up and be accessorized by one's own grasp of recent history, (re:pop culture?), and may the best person prosper. This movie is just fun. It doesn't really take you to any given dark side, or give you insight into the depths of Darby's depravity. It just has him as the best writer in his group of friends who managed to pull of some antics, and ended up taking himself too seriously, but it's, you know, based on a true story and so it works.
Interestingly enough, after the movie was made, Shane West, the dude playing Darby, changed his name to Shane Wreck and officially joined the remaining Germs (thirty years older!) to tour and play big corporate events like Warped Tour. I'm pretty sure that that is one big reason why Darby offed himself, so such lameness would never occur with the Germs moniker. If the real Darby Crash had any semi-spoken lyrical theme, anti-institutionalism would be a big one. Even though West looks like a prettier Darby and can emulate the sounds he made, it is a pretty big disgrace. Unlike the Ramones, who I would have happily seen at any age with any bassist (Dee Dee forever, though!), I would only wanna see the Germs with Darby Crash, preferably younger than 22. It's really not the music or lyrics that made the Germs so awesome, it was the conglomeration of what they were saying, when they were saying it, how they were saying it, and who was delivering the message. I like Darby's lyrics, but this is one subject on which I am jaded. I mean, I've heard it said over and over again so many times since, were the Germs really the first to lay that style of lyric down? If so, he definitely has a wildly distinctive lyrical voice that may rank as the most imitated in punk rock, and if so, and it would have been a brave artistic move to expose your pain and especially anger in such an open and vulnerable and visibly poetic way, especially when disco ruled the airwaves. So many years later, these themes and techniques Darby pioneered have been made crude, but his lines are still elegant and the work of a natural. I won't undersell him on this point: Darby Crash was hyper-intelligent. From a very young age he read Hitler, Nietzsche, Hesse, Crowley and crafted his philosophy, or non-philosophy. The real Darby Crash explains, "It's a way of life. Fascist is totally extreme right. We're not extreme right. Maybe there's a better word for it that I haven't found yet, but I'm still going to have complete control . . . One day you'll pray to me." The movie shows Darby using typed lyric sheets as his most frequent form of promotion. Such as:
I'm a lexicon devil with a battered brain
And I'm searchin' for a future-the world's my aim
So gimme gimme your hands-
Gimme gimme your minds
Gimme gimme this-
Gimme gimme tha-yea-yea-t...
I want toy tin soldiers that can push and shove
I want gunboy rovers that'll wreck this club
I'll build you up and level your heads
We'll run it my way-cold men and politics dead...
I'll get silver guns to drip old blood
Let's give this established joke a shove
We're gonna wreak havoc on the rancid mill
I'm searchin' for something even if I'm killed...
Empty out your pockets-you don't need their change
I'm giving you the power to rearrange
Together we'll run to the highest prop
Tear it down and let it drop...away...
There are some good scenes in the movie though. The Germs on air with Rodney on the ROQ is mega-cheesy and funny, and Darby dealing with his homosexuality is precious. This movie would have me believe that he died a virgin! One of the best, most punk aspects of the movie is the near inability of the actors to act. They are at like "Saved By the Bell" levels of acting ability, and that is one thing that makes it more real. Like in Chuck Klosterman says in his "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," anything important is inevitably a cliche and probably doesn't reflect reality, but in (not) doing so it actually does reflect reality, which is not very real at all. Maybe the film makers are right on after all. If you watched the movie on YouTube (as I did) and you read the comments (like I did), you're bombarded by the holier-than-thou and punk-as-fuck who voice their insignificant opinions based on their punk rock pedigree that you would assume involves getting shot up by Darby himself, based on their self-righteousness, with Green Day's Billie Joe Armstrong as their sacrificial lamb. Don't mind their crassly-typed psuedo thoughts, they're neither here nor there. Some legitimate gripes would include that the Germs all look like models, with Lorna Doom being played by Bijou Phillips. The Germs were young and good-looking, but this layer of gloss would be an example of the bone of contention between the filmmaker and the wannabe complain-o punks. They paint drummer Don Bolles as a happy-go-lucky moron, but I understand he was the compulsive bad dude himself. More to the point, the movie has Darby singing into the mike whenever on stage. I think that the Germs are more well known for Darby's avoidance of the microphone than they are for Darby's suicide or their music. Plus, you could easily get thrown off by the ludicrous dialogue and its hackneyed, amateurish delivery, but why? This is a movie about the Germs, not "Pet Sounds".
Years later, I'm listening to G.I. and get an inkling to check the Germs movie out. Now, some movies make you uncomfortable in a way that takes away from the film. Todd Solenz's "Storytelling" is a great example. That scene with super-cutie, flat-chested Selma Blair and the large black dude is, for my money, too exploitative and gross. And I like exploitative and gross! "Kids" also is unbelievably sucky in that same "aren't we real, so real and bad" way. Some movies make you uncomfortable in a good way that engages you, "Psycho" being the obvious, and way out of the league, example. "What We Do Is Secret" is not uncomfortable in either of these ways, it's not uncomfortable at all. It's kinda like the Germs meets "Mean Girls." They kept pretty close to the Germs plot as I know it: Two kids gets kicked out of an L.A. hippy Scientology school for "mind control", convincing the other students that they were God and his son, Jesus, they decide to start a band to enact one of their's "five year plan", they recruit valley girls to fill out the band, rename themselves Bobby Pyn, then Darby Crash and Pat Smear, become the Germs (after Nietzsche's "germ of an idea"), play a terrible first show at the Orpheum with the Damned in the audience at which Darby does his best Iggy Pop, gain popularity after Darby cuts the shit out of his chest (also like Iggy) at the Masque, start to draw and incite their audience into riots, make a record produced by Joan Jett, can't get booked due to reputation, Darby breaks up the band and goes to England where he becomes a New Romantic, comes back and forms the Darby Crash Band, who suck, does one more Germs show reunion to make a lot of cash, reveals the telos of his five-year plan as suicide, an intentional heroin overdose, meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, on that same day John Lennon was shot, dooming Darby to obscurity. The whole thing is framed by a pre-suicide Darby interview, conducted by Slash Magazine's Kickboy Face, and Darby narration which is him reading from Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil". He reveals in the interview that his motivation is political, not on a nationwide scale, but on the level of personal relationships. His Germs lyrics are his message, that the only way to succeed on a national or personal level is through fascism, and he is the ideal fascist leader, to his "circle" of friends. Darby is also obsessed with the cyclical nature of things, as shown through the blue "Circle One" Germs logo that he and his band and extended followers wear on armbands or spray paint on the wall or burn into your arm with a cigarette when you are family.
The storytelling of the movie is actually really good, though how accurately it portrays how the characters enacted is in question. They all act like kids, and I guess they were. Unlike the older, more sophisticated New York scene led by artists, poets, and addicts who then made music, these guys were right out of high school, emulating artists and once in a while, becoming one. In Darby's case, relying on the direction of inner demons, and as for the rest of the Germs, it would seem, relying on their belief in Darby and their love of the Germs, in a classic "we're all in this together" mentality. They are all portrayed as wildly naive, babes at Darby's teet, and though he could talk a big game, he was just as naive as anyone. Richard Hell was a manipulator concerned with art and by extension, himself. Darby Crash was a manipulator concerned with himself, and by extension, art. So, they do all this well, and make it well worth watching, but the problem for me lies in this being a movie about punk rock, but not being a punk rock movie. Everybody is a lamb, so tame and self-questioning. The Germs come off as as nice as, or nicer, than me, and far more conservative. When I first heard the story of Darby Crash, it made me uncomfortable. This highly, highly charismatic dude who uses his power to manipulate everyone around him into thinking he is a genius, knowing the whole while he was gonna abandon them all. In real life, he used real-deal mind control techniques derived from L. Ron Hubbard's Scientology, which his high school was theoretically based on, to coerce a group of friends and admirers into a cult-like clique young Darby named Circle One. He idolized Charles Manson, and Circle One was primarily female, and when punk came to Hollywood, this became the Germs fan base. See, in the time elapsed since the seventies, since the first punk rock movement, alot has changed. For one, nothing is musically shocking anymore. The most shocking thing is Lady Gaga because she is pop as fuck but says way iller shit, better said, than Britney Spears or even Saves the Day ever would. What I would consider shocking is a fully functioning real rock and roll band that is all new, all now, but fully aware of their place in American Cultural history. What else has changed is that it is definitely not cool to have minions anymore. It is very not punk rock. Using your charisma to manipulate yourself into a darling persona, no matter how deconstructed, is passe, and not fun at all. What's cool is a non-self aware self-derivative persona that would organically line up and be accessorized by one's own grasp of recent history, (re:pop culture?), and may the best person prosper. This movie is just fun. It doesn't really take you to any given dark side, or give you insight into the depths of Darby's depravity. It just has him as the best writer in his group of friends who managed to pull of some antics, and ended up taking himself too seriously, but it's, you know, based on a true story and so it works.
Interestingly enough, after the movie was made, Shane West, the dude playing Darby, changed his name to Shane Wreck and officially joined the remaining Germs (thirty years older!) to tour and play big corporate events like Warped Tour. I'm pretty sure that that is one big reason why Darby offed himself, so such lameness would never occur with the Germs moniker. If the real Darby Crash had any semi-spoken lyrical theme, anti-institutionalism would be a big one. Even though West looks like a prettier Darby and can emulate the sounds he made, it is a pretty big disgrace. Unlike the Ramones, who I would have happily seen at any age with any bassist (Dee Dee forever, though!), I would only wanna see the Germs with Darby Crash, preferably younger than 22. It's really not the music or lyrics that made the Germs so awesome, it was the conglomeration of what they were saying, when they were saying it, how they were saying it, and who was delivering the message. I like Darby's lyrics, but this is one subject on which I am jaded. I mean, I've heard it said over and over again so many times since, were the Germs really the first to lay that style of lyric down? If so, he definitely has a wildly distinctive lyrical voice that may rank as the most imitated in punk rock, and if so, and it would have been a brave artistic move to expose your pain and especially anger in such an open and vulnerable and visibly poetic way, especially when disco ruled the airwaves. So many years later, these themes and techniques Darby pioneered have been made crude, but his lines are still elegant and the work of a natural. I won't undersell him on this point: Darby Crash was hyper-intelligent. From a very young age he read Hitler, Nietzsche, Hesse, Crowley and crafted his philosophy, or non-philosophy. The real Darby Crash explains, "It's a way of life. Fascist is totally extreme right. We're not extreme right. Maybe there's a better word for it that I haven't found yet, but I'm still going to have complete control . . . One day you'll pray to me." The movie shows Darby using typed lyric sheets as his most frequent form of promotion. Such as:
I'm a lexicon devil with a battered brain
And I'm searchin' for a future-the world's my aim
So gimme gimme your hands-
Gimme gimme your minds
Gimme gimme this-
Gimme gimme tha-yea-yea-t...
I want toy tin soldiers that can push and shove
I want gunboy rovers that'll wreck this club
I'll build you up and level your heads
We'll run it my way-cold men and politics dead...
I'll get silver guns to drip old blood
Let's give this established joke a shove
We're gonna wreak havoc on the rancid mill
I'm searchin' for something even if I'm killed...
Empty out your pockets-you don't need their change
I'm giving you the power to rearrange
Together we'll run to the highest prop
Tear it down and let it drop...away...
There are some good scenes in the movie though. The Germs on air with Rodney on the ROQ is mega-cheesy and funny, and Darby dealing with his homosexuality is precious. This movie would have me believe that he died a virgin! One of the best, most punk aspects of the movie is the near inability of the actors to act. They are at like "Saved By the Bell" levels of acting ability, and that is one thing that makes it more real. Like in Chuck Klosterman says in his "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," anything important is inevitably a cliche and probably doesn't reflect reality, but in (not) doing so it actually does reflect reality, which is not very real at all. Maybe the film makers are right on after all. If you watched the movie on YouTube (as I did) and you read the comments (like I did), you're bombarded by the holier-than-thou and punk-as-fuck who voice their insignificant opinions based on their punk rock pedigree that you would assume involves getting shot up by Darby himself, based on their self-righteousness, with Green Day's Billie Joe Armstrong as their sacrificial lamb. Don't mind their crassly-typed psuedo thoughts, they're neither here nor there. Some legitimate gripes would include that the Germs all look like models, with Lorna Doom being played by Bijou Phillips. The Germs were young and good-looking, but this layer of gloss would be an example of the bone of contention between the filmmaker and the wannabe complain-o punks. They paint drummer Don Bolles as a happy-go-lucky moron, but I understand he was the compulsive bad dude himself. More to the point, the movie has Darby singing into the mike whenever on stage. I think that the Germs are more well known for Darby's avoidance of the microphone than they are for Darby's suicide or their music. Plus, you could easily get thrown off by the ludicrous dialogue and its hackneyed, amateurish delivery, but why? This is a movie about the Germs, not "Pet Sounds".
"Annihilation Man" by Brendan Mullen
Watch "What We Do Is Secret"
Hot Stove! 11/12/09
The Phillies have Placido Polanco, Mark DeRosa, and Adrian Beltre on their third base wish list, according to sources speaking to Jim Salisbury of the Philadelphia Inquirer. Salisbury adds that Chone Figgins and Miguel Tejada are also of interest, but to a lesser degree.
Salisbury notes Korean reports suggesting Chan Ho Park wants to start in 2010. Amaro has heard differently from Park's agent. Starting was a big factor in Park's decision to sign with the Phillies a year ago.
The Baltimore Orioles have expressed interest in Pedro Feliz. With longtome O Melvin Mora heading out at age 38, the Orange Birds (I just made that up) have their eye on several third basemen (including Adrian Beltre, Mark DeRosa, and Feliz), but only after the Phillies have had their pick. I would love to see Pete Happy stay in the area where I can watch him on MASN.
The Braves announced Tim Hudson's extension today, according to Dave O'Brien of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He says it's a three-year deal worth around $9MM per year, with an option for 2013. Hudson's new deal overwrites the $12MM mutual option he had for 2010.
There's word that the Rays could look into Matsui if they move Pat Burrell.
The Cubs and Rays are still discussing a possible Milton Bradley-Pat Burrell swap, but it doesn't sound like the two sides are close on the money issue. One of the report's sources describes talks as "worse than Chinese water torture."
Pat Burrell, Rays. He's been linked to the Cubs in a possible Bradley swap, though the money doesn't match up and the Cubs would have to flip Burrell or else have ghastly outfield corner defense.
It's a possibility that the Yankees could re-sign both Damon and Matsui, since they still trust Damon's ability to play left field. Matsui, on the other hand, would again be relegated to DH duty, although Cashman notes that another team could view him as an outfielder. Based on comments we heard earlier today, that seems unlikely.
The Phillies are "intent on pursuing Chone Figgins hard," while the Mets are also fans of the Seth Levinson client. The Angels still hope to re-sign Figgins. Joel Sherman of the New York Post has more on the Mets' interest, explaining that moving Luis Castillo would make signing Figgins easier. Sherman thought another reasonable addition for the Mets might be Carlos Lee, but his idea was shot down by Ed Wade and a Mets official.
The Mariners have reached an agreement on a one-year deal with Ken Griffey Jr., according to Larry Stone of the Seattle Times. ESPN's Jerry Crasnick says Junior's new contract is similar to last year's. SI's Jon Heyman says it's a $2MM base with incentives that could exceed $1MM.
Get league-wide Hot Stove action at MLB Trade Rumors.
Salisbury notes Korean reports suggesting Chan Ho Park wants to start in 2010. Amaro has heard differently from Park's agent. Starting was a big factor in Park's decision to sign with the Phillies a year ago.
The Baltimore Orioles have expressed interest in Pedro Feliz. With longtome O Melvin Mora heading out at age 38, the Orange Birds (I just made that up) have their eye on several third basemen (including Adrian Beltre, Mark DeRosa, and Feliz), but only after the Phillies have had their pick. I would love to see Pete Happy stay in the area where I can watch him on MASN.
The Braves announced Tim Hudson's extension today, according to Dave O'Brien of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He says it's a three-year deal worth around $9MM per year, with an option for 2013. Hudson's new deal overwrites the $12MM mutual option he had for 2010.
There's word that the Rays could look into Matsui if they move Pat Burrell.
The Cubs and Rays are still discussing a possible Milton Bradley-Pat Burrell swap, but it doesn't sound like the two sides are close on the money issue. One of the report's sources describes talks as "worse than Chinese water torture."
Pat Burrell, Rays. He's been linked to the Cubs in a possible Bradley swap, though the money doesn't match up and the Cubs would have to flip Burrell or else have ghastly outfield corner defense.
It's a possibility that the Yankees could re-sign both Damon and Matsui, since they still trust Damon's ability to play left field. Matsui, on the other hand, would again be relegated to DH duty, although Cashman notes that another team could view him as an outfielder. Based on comments we heard earlier today, that seems unlikely.
The Phillies are "intent on pursuing Chone Figgins hard," while the Mets are also fans of the Seth Levinson client. The Angels still hope to re-sign Figgins. Joel Sherman of the New York Post has more on the Mets' interest, explaining that moving Luis Castillo would make signing Figgins easier. Sherman thought another reasonable addition for the Mets might be Carlos Lee, but his idea was shot down by Ed Wade and a Mets official.
The Mariners have reached an agreement on a one-year deal with Ken Griffey Jr., according to Larry Stone of the Seattle Times. ESPN's Jerry Crasnick says Junior's new contract is similar to last year's. SI's Jon Heyman says it's a $2MM base with incentives that could exceed $1MM.
Get league-wide Hot Stove action at MLB Trade Rumors.
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