Ten so long years ago, a random gathering of some of the best musicians from Canada’s greatest musical berg threw themselves onstage as part of the annual Locke Street Festival. Spearheaded by veteran Hammerhead Tom Wilson, said ad-hoc combo was busy rocking and rolling things all the way up that street as the sun slid down when suddenly, a most familiar figure was spotted nearby.
The lead singer of the one, the only, Teenage Head.
The phone rang for quite a while before I realized it wasn’t part of a dream I was having, but actually ringing in the Real World. Its insistent clatter, sounding more like a fire alarm than a phone, woke me from some quality REM sleep and a dream I do not recall except for the dim memory of naked hippie girls with flowers in their hair and sex on their minds, all dancing before me in a sylvan glen surrounded by a stand of Giant Sequoias in which, besides the lovely bevy of lustful chickies named Moonbeam, Sunflower and Debbie, there stood a Pink’s Hot Dog Stand and Tony Curtis’s limousine. Go figure.
Too tired to be angry and unable to open my eyes just yet, I groped around in the bed’s headboard until I located the source of my sudden departure from Heaven and wrestled the receiver from its cradle, pranging my wife on the head with the damn thing and waking her up as well.
It was 7:00 am. October 4th 1970 Continue reading
I just want to walk right out of this world,
coz everybody has a poison heart
(Dee Dee Ramone, Daniel Rey)
Time to go listen to “Wart Hog” again…
(musician-actor-fan Robbie Rist)
His speech was inarticulate;
His songs were not
(Carl Cafarelli, “This Is Rock ‘N’ Roll Radio”)
Dee Dee was the most important musician in the history of punk rock,
and probably the most overlooked
(John Holmstrom, editor/publisher of PUNK Magazine)
As hard as it may seem today to fathom, there was a time, in the not too distant analog past, when starting up a record company required more – much more – than just a domain name and the nearest GarageBand™ software.
Yes, there was a time when starting up a record company required actual brick and mortar (or at least some office space), telephones, pens, pencils, typewriters and reams of 20 lb stationery (plus desks to put them all on and, ideally, a staff of people to use them) …not to mention, in the case of at least one of the two record companies mentioned below, a full Cordon Bleu kitchen staff equipped with a £600-a-month-at-least liquor allowance.
In sorting through over 6 years worth of my DBAWIS columns in preparation of a book featuring some of my best work here and supplemented by some new stories written especially for what I hope will be Volume number one of a series, I came across this particular example of the occasional silly post I contribute to this circus.
These articles basically write themselves and I have very little control over the why and what for of them. Usually, I sit down to write a new column with an idea in mind and work from there, but once in a while (after staring at a blank screen for several minutes) something totally unrelated will pop into my head and I start to type.
I hate hot weather.
I don’t hate many things, but I HATE hot weather.
I dislike things that are not to my taste, I rarely feel the desire to hate anything because it is negative energy, and negative energy is toxic. Life is too short to waste the energy, or allow negative thoughts to waste your valuable time, but with the exception of one human being I would love to see get run over repeatedly, shot, drowned, set on fire and eaten by wolves or household pets, I LOATHE hot weather…and be aware that murder statistics go up when it is 90 degrees or hotter.
It’s going to be triple digits this weekend.
…and make that TWO people I would love to see karma-lized and turned into an order of McNuggets….THEN get run over repeatedly, shot, drowned, set on fire and eaten by wolves or household pets
Bullseye Records of Canada
