I’ve been DJing a bit, and posting the results here. My latest is below.
One week from today, on Sunday, April 6, 2014, I will be guest DJing at SYNTHICIDE in lovely Brooklyn, NY along with DJ Andi and DJ CHUBY242, playing music with synthesizers and a beat to it (in theory).
The event runs from 7-10 PM (perfect for you working types who like to do the disco dancing but don’t like being up late), and my set will run from around 8-9 PM.
SYNTHICIDE is held monthly at:
Bossa Nova Civic Club
1271 Myrtle Ave.
Brooklyn, New York 11221
The Facebook page for the event is here.
Just for the hell of it, as an experiment, I’ve put the bulk of my music, warts and all (and they are many), on Bandcamp.
(No, nothing new yet. No, asking when or if there will be new music won’t make it happen faster.)
It’s still essentially free, but I’ve made the option of paying for it (which is greatly appreciated, yes) slightly less mental-transactiony.
We’ll see how this goes.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was at the beginning of a nervous breakdown in 2003. Maybe a week or so after a pretty bad breakup, I had tickets for the Stooges show at Jones Beach. What most people didn’t know at the time or perhaps since is that, as much as I loved the band and had been looking forward to seeing them since I was 15, I was nearly too depressed to leave my house and see The Stooges. Yes, I actually typed that sentence. I almost didn’t go. It took everything in me to push myself out the door, and I didn’t manage to shake it off for the day until I actually pulled into the parking lot at Jones Beach. As fate would have it, that was the only time I ever got to see Ron and Scott Asheton, Steve MacKay and Iggy Pop play on the same stage in person. It was amazing in ways I still can’t put into words, and I am so very fortunate that I had that one opportunity. It may not seem like much to people who don’t truly know what’s up, but getting the chance to see Scott Asheton play drums with The Stooges is one of the single best arguments I’ve got in this world for fighting the living hell out of your demons. May you all be as successful (even if it’s barely successful, as I was on that day), and may your reward be as great as a Stooges show, if that’s at all possible.
Condolences to all of his loved ones the world over, from his family and friends, to Iggy, Steve, James, Mike, Toby, BP, Aaron and everyone else he played with, to all the fans, every crazy fucking one of us, who heard The Stooges and had our lives changed by it.
Kept coming over to this site after Friday and seeing a post familiar to those who visited my past life. Decided that it just didn’t look right here. Different site, different times, different purposes. So, I ditched it. Not a common move for me on any of my sites, but it felt like the thing to do. That can stay on the other site. I’ll make it easy to find.
I feel like I should be writing more and adding more and developing more here, though. I’ve got ideas, I’ve got a huge backlog of Things and I’ve got the time and space. What do those of you who know me (and, fuck it, those who don’t) think this site is currently missing? Pictures? More history? More present-day? Let me know.
Imagine that there’s something that you really love to do and really want to do. Now, imagine that this thing that you love and want to do is something that causes you pretty fucking intense amounts of pain, depression, anxiety and self-hatred. Now, imagine that you’ve spent years trying to find a way to make it not do that, and failed miserably, but keep trying, and in the process, you continue to cause yourself all the pain and misery described above. Now, imagine that you’ve gone to great pains to explain, not only just to the people who enjoy seeing you do that thing you do, but also to people who actually care about you as a person and, thus, appear to have some vested interest in your well-being, that this thing you love to do has hurt you and still hurts you so much when you try to do it, and that you’re still trying to find a way to not cause yourself pain while doing it, but that you can’t seem to find a way. Now, imagine all of these people asking you when you’re going to make another record with Floyd, Syd.
Just over 25 years, I’ve eaten those hot dogs, on that corner (though there were the occasional road dogs), at all hours, with I don’t know how many different people, me in every condition imaginable (plenty of them not so good), and at times without enough money to pay for anything, and I do mean anything else.
December 30th, 1988. Yes, I actually remember the date of my first visit, because there was a Dead Boys show at The Ritz that night, Stiv Bators’ last time playing in New York if I’m not mistaken. Had the money to get in, had nowhere else to be. DIDN’T GO. I have a vague memory now, brought up after decades by today’s events, of the friend I had with me either getting bored, tired, or having to be home right as we got to Cooper Square. I also don’t think it totally registered with me that, after a couple of years of listening to Stiv at home, I could’ve walked a few blocks and SEEN Stiv, or I might’ve fought harder for it, but I think my friend had just about had it, so it probably would’ve been a tough sell. I’ll beat myself up a little less now that I remember that much, but missing that show is still a Top 5 regret in a life full of ‘em, plenty of which I probably should regret more than missing the show. I’m getting ahead of myself, though.
My recollection of things is that Gray’s Papaya was the first place my friend and I went, the very first time we got off the E train at West 4th without anything even remotely resembling adult supervision. Two 14 year old wanna-be punk rock kids from Jersey. Didn’t know shit. I still don’t (lost track of him), but you can imagine. We were hungry from the trip up, and 50 cent hot dogs seemed like the best idea anyone ever had. (That part, we did have figured out.) Had our dogs there (went with kraut on mine, as I usually did; don’t remember what I drank), then went to Venus Records, It’s Only Rock N’ Roll, Revolver, Postermat (Loved that place; met girls there, lied about our age…), Psychedelic Solution and like a billion different head shops, just looking at everything: records, t-shirts, postcards, jewelry, drug paraphernalia for drugs we didn’t do yet, you name it. Noticed the outside of Electric Lady for the first time. (Still never been inside.) Saw the 8th Street Playhouse for the first time, but never ended up there (not quite a Dead Boys-level regret, but it still sucks). Think I bought some stuff but I’ll be damned if I can remember what. I just remember taking my time and looking at everything really closely, because I’d been to that part of town before with an older friend, but never in a situation where I wasn’t following their (admittedly pretty cool, and still hugely influential) agenda. For the first time, I could just roam. Obviously I didn’t roam very far at all, but that’s hardly the point, is it?
A few of the head shops may still be around dating back to that time (those stores can be a blur because their stock’s so similar and they were so close together, so it’s hard to say) and while I didn’t go in, Electric Lady’s still there, but with the closing of Gray’s, every other place I went into on 8th Street that day is gone. I mean, everybody has those stories past a certain age or a certain time in a city’s lifespan. I’ve seen more places close in New York in general and the Village in particular than I can even remember anymore. This one’s quite possibly the toughest, though, because to the best of my knowledge, trivial as it may seem to some, having a couple of dogs at Gray’s Papaya was one of the earliest decisions I made in what became my adult life, and for so long, more than half my life now, the place was just there for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely put the effort into visiting the uptown Gray’s now that it’s the only one (never been a Papaya King guy for some reason), but it will be an effort. The 70s have never been my usual part of town. Maybe I’ll try to roam some more when I get up there like I used to, though the New York I find when I roam anywhere in town these days is very different to the one I just described.
So yes, for those of you keeping score at home, the closing of a hot dog stand did make me cry today.
Here’s me doing Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” with the Punk Rock/Heavy Metal Karaoke band at Irving Plaza in New York on New Year’s Eve.