Joe Strummer Lead Singer, The Clash (August 21, 1952 - December 22, 2002)
This past Saturday would have been the fifty-eighth birthday of Joe Strummer, the lead singer of the Clash, who died in 2002 at age 50. I can't say that I was fan from the beginning, or even from the middle. I was too young to really be into The Clash before they imploded and sunk into the depths of pop culture history in 1985. I became acquainted with them in several ways in the early 1990s. My parents, of all people, introduced me to the 1989 Jim Jarmusch flick Mystery Train, in which Strummer appeared as a swaggering Memphis hipster soon to be on the lam. Some friends of mine used to cover "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" during their gigs back in early high school. Most John Cusack movies are littered with Clash references. Since then, though, I've gotten into them heavily and now own all of their records. I don't subscribe to all of that hype about them being the only band that mattered, but all of their tunes were fueled with an energy that is absent in most mainstream music. A few links for you:
Twenty four years ago today, on May 25, 1986, Kurt Cobain was arrested for vandalism. What might have gotten Kurt so riled up on that Sunday? We can only speculate.
A theory: As fate would have it, Hands Across America, that ill-conceived do-gooder event, was held that same day. Remember that? It was a charity event, the goal of which was to have a human chain from one coast to the other, with all participants joined by holding hands. Surely, Cobain, the then would-be punk rocker had no patience for such displays of insincerity.
Would you ever have associated George Wendt, the actor who played Norm on Cheers, with the Minutemen, the fabled punk act of the 1980s? Would you ever thought that Wendt would have hosted "Friday Night Videos"? Last year, Wendt was interviewed by Noel Murray at The Onion A.V. Club, and the following exchange on that point occurred:
AVC: I have a hazy memory of seeing you on Friday Night Videos back in the mid-’80s, co-hosting with John Ratzenberger, and you each got to pick one video during the show. And if I’m not mistaken you picked “King Of The Hill” by the Minutemen.
GW: I may have. I was a big fan of the Minutemen. Unfortunately their career only lasted about a minute. D. Boon had that tragic auto wreck. But I still listen to various Mike Watt projects.
There you have it. A little digging reveals that Wendt and his "Cheers" co-star John Ratzenberger co-hosted "Friday Night Videos" on November 8, 1985 (although, technically, it may have been November 9, 1985, since the show did not air until after midnight).1
For good measure, see here for an (apparently old) fan site dedicated to FNV and here for my prior post of the Minutemen and their connection to the 2000 film, High Fidelity.
Above: The "King of the Hill" video by the Minutemen.
Above: The "Friday Night Videos" introduction.
1. Bianculli, David. "TV Tonight," Philadelphia Inquirer. November 8, 1985; Sonsky, Steve. "Videos, Wrestling Keep 'Retired' Ebersol Busy," Miami Herald. November 8, 1985.
Speaking of Richard Hell, it was nice to see his most famous song, "Blank Generation," play over the end credits of "Crisp," the second episode of the HBO original series, "How to Make It in America." Although that episode originally aired on February 21, 2010, I only watched it yesterday, as I've had a backlog of that series since I began DVR-ing it earlier this year. The song is marginally relevant to the episode in that the series' two protagonists, Ben Epstein (Bryan Greenberg) and Cam Calderon (Victor Rasuk), are attempting to design a brand of jeans dedicated to New York in the 1970s, a rough and tumble time that saw the birth of punk and hip hop. Hell, as a punk icon from that era, directly influenced the late Malcolm McLaren and the U.K. punk scene. "Blank Generation," the song, appeared on Hell's LP of the same name in 1977.
Yesterday, punk rock icon Malcolm McLaren died at age 64. This is big news (and the far better nostalgia blog Slicing Up Eyeballs has its coverage here.). Often called a punk rock impresario, he managed the New York Dolls for a bit in the early 1970s and later in that decade brought the Sex Pistols into being (which means, of course, he is to blame for introducing Sid Vicious, the ultimate poseur, to the world). In 1983, he released Duck Rock (the album cover of which is depicted above), which assisted in the rise of hip-hop in the U.K. Perhaps McLaren receives a bit too much credit today for fashioning the punk rock aesthetic, as he simply appropriated many things from Richard Hell, Tom Verlaine, and the New York Dolls. (It's no coincidence that Hell's "Blank Generation" predates the Pistols' eerily similar "Pretty Vacant."). But he was a fierce self promoter and exploiter and certainly punk rock would be a much different thing today without his efforts and influence. And in perpetrating the Pistols, McLaren apparently frightened much of the United Kingdom back in the day. And that's certainly a punk rock thing to do. Resquiat in Pacem, Malcolm, and say hello to Sid for us, wherever he may be.
As a part of today's installment of this site's coverage of the tenth anniversary of the release of the 2000 film High Fidelity, we pause to reflect upon that movie's homage to the 1979 debut album of the Northern Ireland punk band, Stiff Little Fingers. And in so doing, we feature an original interview with Damian Rogers, an actress featured in that scene. In the film, record store clerk Dick (Todd Louiso) uses his knowledge of Green Day's influences to flirt with a customer, Anaugh (Sara Gilbert). Dick informs her that in addition to The Clash, one of Green Day's biggest influences is Stiff Little Fingers, whose album, Inflammable Material, he produces and begins to play over the store's system. As he does so, one customer (Rogers) asks if he's playing the new Green Day album. This amuses Dick and Anaugh.
Stiff Little Fingers is a band I probably never would have discovered had I not gone through a punk phase in the last decade. Sure, I remembered the scene from the film, but it was not until several years later that I stumbled across and purchased Inflammable Material. I can recall lounging about in a chair as the record playing and then sitting straight up as "Suspect Device," the album's first track, came over the speakers and shook me from the adjacent room. (Another stellar song on that album is "Alternative Ulster."). The band certainly has an energy that few groups - even those labeled punk today - apparently lack. When "Suspect Device" crashes into its chorus, there is no better example of punk rock. If you've not heard their debut album, or any of the live recordings from the 1970s, investigate them. As the years passed, the band altered its musical approach a bit, and by 1982, the band had a slightly poppier feel, as can be evidenced by its album, Now Then . . . The band has broken up, reformed, and to this day, still tours.
Here's the dialog from the scene in question:
DICK
Well, the interesting thing about Green Day is that, um, so much of their music is, in truth, directly influenced by, in my opinion, uh, two bands.
ANAUGH AND DICK
The Clash.
DICK
Uh, correct, The Clash. Uh, but also by this band called the Stiff Little Fingers. Um, I think you would really love this band.
At this point in the film, Dick begins to play "Suspect Device" over the record store's speakers. It's actually difficult to hear and distinguish in the scene. (A neat aside: This scene has been referenced by the band on its Twitter account.). The scene continues:
ANAUGH
It sounds great. My name's Anaugh.
DICK
The name's um . . . My name's Dick.
GREEN DAY GIRL
Is this the new Green Day?
In response, Anna and Dick share a knowing glance (despite the fact that Anaugh didn't know of the existence of Stiff Little Fingers until just a few moments before).
"Green Day Girl" was played by Damian Rogers, originally from Detroit, but in 1999, a Chicago resident. She can be seen in the image above in between Anaugh and Dick, at the very moment in the film where she asks her question about Green Day. (She can also be seen in this image, which was used in my previous post about the Beta Band, as well as in the background of a few other images in this post.). Last week, Rogers was kind enough to submit to an email interview with this site, in which she discussed her involvement with the film and professed a wistful nostalgia for the Chicago she knew in the late 1990s. (We here at this site fully support any type of nostalgia for the 1990s and appreciated her thoughts and memories of the era.).
Without further ado, the interview with Ms. Rogers is as follows:
1. How did you become a part of the film, High Fidelity?
A lot of the extras in High Fidelity — and in that scene especially — were people who actually spent a lot of their time and money at independent record stores in Chicago, like Reckless Records. I had become friends with a couple people who were working on the film and lots of people I knew were participating in one way or another.
It was a total fluke I ended up with a line. That line was supposed to be delivered by Al Johnson from the band U.S. Maple, but then he was cast in a larger cameo in a different scene. ([Jack Black's] character tortures him by refusing to sell him some rare vinyl — I’m pretty sure it’s a Captain Beefheart record.). So the line was up for grabs on set and they gave it to me minutes before shooting that part of the scene.
2. You are credited as "Green Day Girl." What do you remember about the filming of your particular scene?
Most of the people playing customers sifting through records in the background were a part of the Chicago music scene at the time, or at least, a particular corner of it. Ian Williams (formerly of Don Caballero and Storm & Stress, currently of Battles) has some prominent face time. A bunch of my old friends and acquaintances are in it, so when I watch it, I am totally distracted by my instinct to scan the screen for their split-second appearances.
As for the day of filming, I remember milling around, lots of waiting, sitting with my friend Nicole as she grew increasingly bored and irritable. I remember that one of the professional extras made a point of asking me why so many of us already knew each other.
It was an interesting way to spend a day of my life. A long, repetitive day, mostly spent watching other people work, but interesting nonetheless. And due to union contracts, I was issued an empty trailer when I was upgraded from non-speaking shopper to “Green Day Girl.” This delighted me, even though I didn’t have the opportunity to lock myself in there.
3. Were you previously familiar with the band, Stiff Little Fingers, whose song plays and is referenced in that scene?
I’d heard their name, but I don’t think I’d ever listened to them at that point. (Though my husband owns a couple of their records, so they’re in the house now.) As far as the movie’s soundtrack goes, I’m more into the old psychedelic stuff and the Drag City artists — Love, 13th Floor Elevators, Kinks, Smog, Plush, Royal Trux, etc.
4. Did you talk music with any members of the principal cast? If so, what did you discuss?
I have no memory of talking about music with any of the members of the principal cast. I did have a number of conversations about music with people working on the production side. The screenwriter and music supervisor was already deeply engaged in Chicago’s underground and independent music scene — his name still pops up in the liner notes of various Drag City releases. I can’t really watch the movie objectively, but I would credit any sense of authenticity to a real effort on the part of the filmmakers to involve people they respected in as many aspects of the film as possible.
The last time I saw High Fidelity — I’ve actually only seen it twice in its entirety — it made me a bit nostalgic for a time and a place that is ten years (and a couple cities now) behind me. The scene in which Lisa Bonet is singing as “Marie De Salle” was shot at the rock club Lounge Ax, a place I spent many, many nights. In 1999, it seemed to be the center of my social and emotional world in a way I doubt another public establishment ever could be again. Maybe it was only really for a few years, but I felt like I lived there, with all that that implies.
Lounge Ax closed at the beginning of 2000, the year the film was released, also the year I left Chicago for New York. It’s a place that survives in images and memory, but that I can’t go back and visit. It’s bittersweet to see it onscreen. For me the whole movie is a surreal blend of artifice and document. I appreciate it as a kind of collision worlds. I remember a friend of mine’s boyfriend was bored by how breathless and star-struck all these supposedly jaded hipsters became when Hollywood came to town for a few months. “It’s not the fucking Taj Mahal,” he said. “It’s a movie. In a couple years, the video will be on sale in the used bin at Reckless.” (I did, in fact, buy the DVD from a used bookstore around the corner from me in Toronto.)
But it seemed very important and exciting at the time. I suppose, like everything, it’s relative. I remember when I was spending every night at Lounge Ax filming bands during the last two weeks they were open, one of my colleagues at the literary journal where I worked marveled at my commitment, confused by my grief. After all, he pointed out, “It’s only a bar.”
Rogers is not the only one online with a nostalgia for the Lounge Ax. A Facebook group called "I Miss The Lounge Ax" boasts 903 members as of this writing. (Additional information about the now defunct club can be found here and here.). Here's the scene featuring Bonet performing at the Lounge Ax referenced by Rogers in her interview:
Rogers's official site can be found here (and, if you're on Twitter, you can follow her here). She describes herself as "an American-born poet who now lives in Canada" who "sometimes writes about music." Her first book of poems, Paper Radio, was published in the fall of 2009. (You can hear her read some of her poems at her MySpace page.). Its cover is below:
Finally, the scene in question featuring Louiso, Gilbert, Rogers, and the music of Stiff Little Fingers can be viewed here:
As a part of today's installment of this site's coverage of the tenth anniversary of the release of the 2000 film High Fidelity, we pause to reflect upon that movie's brief homage to an old Minutemen album. And in so doing, we feature an original interview with Chris Rehmann, one of the actors from the scene in question (featured in the image below wearing the Charlie Brown t-shirt). But, first, onto the music: Featured briefly in the film is the 1984 Minutemen album, Double Nickels on the Dime. Two hooligans, Vince (Rehmann) and Justin (Ben Carr), shoplift a handful of LPs from Championship Vinyl, located in Chicago at the corner of Milwaukee and Honore streets and owned by protagonist Rob Gordon (John Cusack). Gordon spots the two shoplifters just as they are about to leave the store; he yells to his employee, Barry (Jack Black), to bar the door, but Barry is too late, and the thieves flee the premises. Rob and Barry immediately give chase outside the store and around the corner.
Gordon and Barry catch up to them, and Gordon orders them to halt, which they do, when the two young punks realize that Gordon has their skateboard, which may be more valuable than the pilfered records. The two miscreants them toss their records and tapes onto the sidewalk:
Gordon seems surprised at the records that they have stolen, going so far as to ask if they are taking them for someone else. (Note in the image above the copy of the Minutemen album at issue as well as the copy of 1978's Music for Films by Brian Eno. Gordon also professes surprise at their pilfering of music by RyuichiSakamoto, Serge Gainsbourg, and SigueSigue Sputnik.). The two young thieves scoff at Gordon's disdain, suggesting that Gordon is a musical bigot to think that just by looking at them he can discern what music they should or do in fact enjoy.
The encounter ends with the two sets of adversaries parting ways (although Gordon later learns that the two thieves are musicians in their own right, and he elects to produce their first EP).
For me, the Minutemen was one of those bands that I had always heard of, but never truly discovered until later adulthood, when I could afford to experiment and buy expensive selections from the SST Records back catalog. (Try finding a new copy of one of their LPs for under $16!). Around 1991, I bought a copy of the SST Records compilation, SST Acoustic, which featured one track by the Minutemen, "Stories," which originally appeared on the band's final album, 1985's 3-Way Tie (For Last). That album, of course, was released very shortly before the untimely death of D. Boon, who along with Mike Watt, was the core of the band. It was not until a number of years after I bought the acoustic compilation that I discovered Double Nickels on the Dime, which is really an epic example of the fusion of punk and other genres from the mid-1980s.
Last week, Rehmann kindly agreed to an interview, in which he reflects upon the filming of the scene in question and his memories of shooting in Chicago ten years ago. He recalls:
I got the part when the director Stephen Frears and a casting agent Claire Simon came to a Second City class I was in. They asked me to come and audition for the part. A friend from the second City Alum named Tim O'Malley coached me through the audition and helped me get the part.
I was new to how film worked as it was my first paying job. I was just thrilled the entire shoot. I remember that my first day on the set was to do my hair. The spots. Due to the director and producers having to check out how dark or light the spots or blond was it took seven hours before I was done.
Shooting the part when we got busted was interesting because the set was in a studio and the outside was set on location. So it was run out the door. Then two weeks later we were running away from the door. Jack Black was also a lot of fun in between takes, joking around a lot.
I was not [previously] familiar with the Minutemen. I did not get a chance to talk much music with the cast. Everyone was so busy, except Jack Black, who took the time to hang out, that I did not have much time to talk music. I did overhear discussions by the producers on what music they wanted in the film and one time let John [Cusack] listen to it when he was in make up. I was not in make up with him much and he ate his lunch mostly in his trailer.
The fondest memory was getting the part meeting John Cusack and Jack Black, and then shooting in the double door for the club scene near the end of the film. I was able to watch Jack sing, and it was just a lot of fun. I also got to improvise the part where I was stealing again and when seeing the movie with friends, it got a laugh. So I was proud of that.
Since High Fidelity, Rehmann has appeared in What about Joan (a television series starring John Cusack's sister, Joan), Early Edition, and a few television commercials but, as he notes, "nothing as big or cool as being part of High Fidelity."
Here's another scene featuring Rehmann, Carr, and Cusack:
Anthony Ortale, a Flickr user, has posted a photograph of the exterior that was used for Championship Vinyl in Chicago and the scene at issue in this post. As Rehmann noted, the film's scenes inside the record store were on a set, but the exterior was on a street corner in Chicago. See Ortale's photograph, which shows the site now all boarded up, here.
Today, Exene Cervenka, one of the lead singers of the fabled LA punk band X, turns 54. Perhaps best known for its 1980 LP, Los Angeles, X also played some recognizable covers in the mid-1980s, including one of Jerry Lee Lewis' "Breathless" (which appeared in the American remake of the French film of the same name) and The Troggs' "Wild Thing," their version of which appeared in the 1989 film, Major League. (If you're wholly unfamiliar with all things punk, you might know Cervenka as the former wife of Viggo Mortensen.).
X still tours, as does Cervenka, who has a bit of a solo career. Sadly, last year, she announced that she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. But she's still doing shows.
Today is the 55th birthday of Palmolive (real name: Paloma Romero), drummer for the punk rock groups, The Slits and The Raincoats. The Slits opened for The Clash during their 1977 tour and recorded a rather upbeat version of "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" on their 1979 debut album, Cut (although Palmolive had already left the band before that album was recorded). (The Kaiser Chief's essentially covered The Slits' cover on the 2005 charity compilation, Help: A Day in the Life.). The Raincoats gained a modicum of mainstream attention when Kurt Cobain professed a fondness for their music. The far better nostalgia blog Slicing Up Eyeballs recently reported here and here upon the interesting strategy The Raincoats employed when they reissued their late 1970s self-titled debut album (pictured above) last year. Their plan? Vinyl only. Why?
SAD CLOWN CHRISTMAS 2007: Two years ago today, Christmas Day 2007, Horus Kemwer posted on his blog, Against the Modern World, an entry that one commenter described as "perhaps the greatest blog entry [the] site [had] ever seen." See it here.
SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS II: Also two years ago, today, this blog was in its infancy and it had not yet lapsed into the lengthy coma that has characterized its last 18 months. But on that day, Christmas Day 2007, this site explored the immortal punk band, Fear, and its 46 second song, "F_ck Christmas." Ah, Christmas. You can access that 2007 post here.
LEAGUE OF MELBOTIS CHRISTMAS POSTS: As previously reported, the six year old blog, The League of Melbotis, closed its doors last week, just a few days before Christmas. If you feel you must recognize the yuletide season (or if you are being forced to against your will), then you can peruse his Christmas posts from these years: 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009.Alas, readers of The League of Melbotis will not get to see a Christmas 2010 post.
Simon John Ritchie a/k/a Sid Vicious (May 10, 1957 – February 2, 1979)
This past Saturday, May 10, would have been the fifty first birthday of the late punk rocker Sid Vicious, had he, of course, made it past 1979. Imagining Vicious, who never saw his twenty-second birthday, as a middle aged man is difficult, if not impossible. Surely, though, he would have devolved into self parody sometime in the mid-to-late 1980s, fallen into relative obscurity in the 1990s, and then been resurrected anew in the 2000s with his contributions to the various oral histories of the early days of punk that have been published of late. Or would he have overdosed a short time later, his assigned fate merely been postponed? More likely, though, he would have spent a substantial number of those years in prison for the October 1978 murder of his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen. (Though his friends insist that he was incapable of murder, a jury of non-punks may have found him guilty based on the evidence.).
He was not a founding member of the Sex Pistols but became its bassist when Glen Matlock left the band in 1977. (Matlock went on to form The Rich Kids, whose records are difficult to find in 2008.). Although an untalented musical hack, Vicious became the "look" of punk and was thus excused for his inability to play his instrument and lack of talent. (It is said that Vicious was chosen for the group solely for his image, which purportedly defined the burgeoning punk "movement" and effectively mimicked the look of Richard Hell, who actually could play).
That Vicious covered "My Way" somewhere along the way is well known (and his version was itself covered by a young Gary Oldman in Alex Cox's 1986 film Sid and Nancy). Sid's version appears on Sid Sings, his only solo album, which was released almost a year after his death. Preceding the studio recording is live crowd noise through which you can hear a number of specific comments and heckles, including that of a young woman who yells to Vicious, "You're a poseur!" The identity of that young woman is most likely lost to history, although she could not be more correct in her assessment. He could not play his instrument, nor could he sing.
The question: Would he be so revered today if we had all saw him age, and had he lived and ultimately escaped his legal difficulties, would he have ultimately learned to play the bass?
"Don't despair, just because it's Christmas!" - Fear (1982)
There has always been a phoniness of sorts to Christmas. (Caveat: The term "Christmas" in this post refers not to the religious celebration of the birth of Christ but rather the uniquely American secular celebration of fireside family chats, hyper-commerce, huge sales, eggnog and other such things generally unavailable two thousand years ago.). People that aren't really polite or nice during the preceding 11 months suddenly become cheery and expect prompt reciprocation. When January rolls around, though, everything returns to normal.
Fear, the punk band, was most famous for its 1982 album, The Record. (An aside: There was some speculation in the music press in the late 1980s or early 1990s whether that album would be released on compact disc as The C.D. rather than under its original title. It was not.).
Fear's song, "Fsck Christmas," did not appear on the original release of The Record, but was included as a bonus track on sequent releases. Rather, it was originally the band's second single and perhaps the best punk song about the yuletide season ever recorded.
Aside from a controversial appearance on "Saturday Night Live" in 1981 (organized by then-former cast member and fan of the band John Belushi), Fear sank into obscurity. (Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist Flea was briefly a member in the early 1980s, following the release of The Record.). Lead singer Lee Ving turned to movies for a while, appearing in both Flashdance and Clue (as the soon to be corpse, Mr. Boddy). In 1993, Guns N' Roses introduced the band to a new generation by including a cover of the band's "I Don't Care About You" on their final official release, The Spaghetti Incident?.
Thirty-something suffering from nostalgia but, thankfully, not from bouts of irony. Here, I will revisit artifacts of popular culture not sufficiently explored elsewhere, though I may perhaps stray from that mission at times.
Click the image above to review Chronological Snobbery's in-depth coverage of the tenth anniversary of the 1998 film, Zero Effect, starring Bill Pullman and Ben Stiller
High Fidelity (2000 - 2010)
Click the image above to review Chronological Snobbery's in-depth coverage of the tenth anniversary of the 2000 film, High Fidelity, starring John Cusack and Jack Black.
