GROOVIES & FANS NYC 1978

Moving along, people, with a bit of hopscotch around 1977-78, thanks to photos floating up from the sump. The above shot was snapped by Billy in 1978, outside the Sire offices in NYC-- Cyril and George and the over excitable Fan Club prexie. Here's a couple more shots from the same roll of film, found in the gosh darn seventies box. Cyril and George were in town on a press junket, riding high on the success of the incredible SHAKE SOME ACTION album.

Billy jumps in the frame-- a couple more fans turned up and took the photo. I wonder how long it will take Josh Styles to extract this Granny Takes A Trip jacket out of Cyril's closet?

THE RETURN OF ROY & CYRIL!

ROY LONEY & CYRIL JORDAN!
CYRIL JORDAN & ROY LONEY!

Either way you say it, it spells FLAMIN GROOVIES!!! Dig their first time on stage together in the NYC environs since 1971! Kids, this is what we've all been wishin' and hopin' for-- the originators setting the woods on fire one more time again! Okay, two more times again!
Ride the rails to Hoboken on Thursday, then hop a hack to scenic Brooklyn on Friday to catch our heroes blastin' out killer after diller after chiller after driller! Backed by the A-Bones, who also open both shows at Maxwell's and the Southpaw. Underthings start the racket rollin' at the Southpaw on Friday, while Dave the Spazz wails on wax before, after and in between! Getcha tix while the gittin's still gittable! Tickets are flyin' fast so act pronto!

Thursday, July 23 Maxwells

Friday, July 24 Southpaw


SEE YOU THERE!!!

WHERE IS THE ENTRANCEWAY TO PLAY?

Sky Saxon Has Left The Building

I yapped with Sky Saxon by telephone in June of 1977. A pal visiting from LA had conjured Sky up via pay phone to quell my doubts that any mere mortal could possibly be on a phone call basis with such a formidable figure. I must’ve gotten gushy from the git-go, as Sky immediately invited me out for a visit. “Ha-ha,” said I, if memory serves, “I can’t do that!” To which he reasoned (and this is verbatim, give or take), “Come ahhn. We’ll spend THIRTY DAYS IN THE DESERT. You know you’ve got to do it.” Six months earlier, a teenage pal from back in Kent had hitchhiked out the Coast and had been curbed on the Strip by Senor Saxon, who had attempted to lure her into a car with … candy. “Oh my God,” said she, later, back home, “I should have got in the car! Sky Saxon! It’ll never happen again!” One might call that brand of charisma, Mansonesque. Everybody in that ratty Ohio brat pack, or bratty Ohio rat pack, if you prefer, was nuts about Sky and Daryl and Rick and Jan, totally gone-nuts berserk insane about the them. We had the Seeds on 45, LP and 8-track. I still have my North American Leisure Corp edition of FUTURE on 8-track with the half split of A Thousand Shadows. The tape has snapped from overuse and there’s some unidentifiable stain across the back, but if you only knew how many times this, hardly the best Seeds longplayer, blasted forth on the 8-track system that my brother had unloaded on me when his fraternity was booking the Amboy Dukes to play the gym, you wouldn’t wonder how it got into such pre-owned condition. In my estimation, Sky Saxon and the Seeds’ entire output is absolutely stellar. They were a perfect band. It was always my dream that there would be a reunion, that drummer Rick Andridge and keyboard king Daryl Hooper and vastly underrated guitar slinger Jan Savage would hook up with Sky and slay us all. Of all the reunion groups, this seemed the most plausible. But it was not to be. A few years back, we were thrilled to finally yap with Jan Savage, who mysteriously appeared in New York to meet up with Sky. Amazing! These cats were our heroes when we were kids, and they remained godlike in our hearts.
There was nothing hippy dippy about the Seeds, even when the flower children were dancing barefoot to their snotty beguines. I marvel at the foppish artists who titter at them in favor of those who charted less, when ounce for ounce, gram for gram, Sky Saxon could out-psych and out-snot any one of them. Nobody Spoil My Fun. Up In Her Room. No Escape. Pushin' Too Hard.


All top rank, all of them. Cavestomp '98 is branded into my brain. It was such a full-on joy, it's hard to believe that it ever happened. This snapshot was taken there, in the basement of Coney Island High (RIP) on St Marks Place, NYC. It was nuts seeing the 16 Magazine bigwigs of '66 roaming around yappin' and snappin'. Mark Lindsay! The Mysterians! Sky Saxon! The Pretty Things! Unreal.
And now, Sky is gone, and we are left with shredded 8-tracks, well worn wax, and faded pictures. Let us never forget the impact and lasting glory of his days, and how blessed we were to have walked alongside him, if only for a little while. Little Ritchie Marsh, two fingers pointing at you.

12. Flamin Groovies Pt. 1 + asst. flotsam!

Forgive the dead air. We've been away and have just now returned from another junket to the Holy Land (Pittsburgh, USA), laden with tales as yet to be revealed... in forthcoming volumes of Mad Mike Monsters, that is. Learn to wait. As promised, today's entry provides the pivot post for all fannish things herein, namely The Flamin' Groovies, who were, and continue to be, the common ground for ravin' mavens of the rock n' roll persuasion, and thanks to the beautiful, mysterious epoch in which all dwell, they and we, and all things around us all, continue to amplify and expand until the day that the whole ball of wax goes kapoof! And we catapult through the Milky Way, like some pea green comet burning a path past the Hubble rubble into deepest space. Oh, that's a snap taken in the CBGB's lady's room (where else?) in early 1977. Kindly note the EP and the fan club badge. The very badge on that grimy lapel finds its way onto cleaner ones these days, but I still wear it with pride.




In Ohio days of yesteryear, the common denominator was, more than the Stooges or the 5 (MC and DC), the Flamin' Groovies. I've tried to nail down the reasons why, and can't. Other than to think that there was something in their sound and style that made us feel like one of them. Over other combos that we dug to pieces, there was a sense of joy and good humor to the hard ass blasts which made them front liners for the defense. But you know that. If you've managed to tread water through the world's longest sentences and have made it thus far, you KNOW THAT. For a band that sprang from the bayside bowels of San Francisco at the height of the British Invasion to persist for one decade at the same magnamity, let alone four, is something worth perpetual notice. In the 70's, you just couldn't trust anyone without the Groovies in their personal stash. This was understood. Flamingo and Teenage Head were absolute staples in any hard driving collection, and when Supersnazz and Sneakers were found alongside the others in any given home habitat, you knew you were in the presence of a fellow genius. The original Groovies lineup with lead singer/superstar Roy Loney, blazed a trail through 1971, at which point Roy left the combo. Cyril kept the band going through some truly lean times, recording amazing music, and trying his darndest to get with label again. Groovies superfan Greg Shaw of Who Put The Bomp and Phonograph Record magazine was key to making this happen. Of this there can be no debate. His enthusiasm, sense of history, and full-on support of the fan/artist relationship, would perpetrate the pure energy that was the legacy of the Groovies. With the release of a seven incher- You Tore Me Down-- on his inhouse Bomp label, he helped make the Sire label signature a reality, initiating the new rise of the Flamin Groovies. The release of the Shake Some Action album marked a victory against the horrendously bland music that had waylaid the airwaves of America, and which was beginning to be equally matched by disco, an alarming development for rock n roll fans. Greg Shaw started a Flamin' Groovies fan club in 1975, issued one professionally printed fanzine, and then asked me to take the reigns. Lately, I've been reading through Greg's old Bomp newsletters,great reads which reinforce our collective rites of fandom.



That's Greg's fanzine, above. And here's my goofy letter which was published therein. Remember, these were the teenage zit poppin' days.



I went headlong into fanzine publishing with my extremely homemade fan rag. Color xerox covers, kid! I thought I was so hi-tech! Here's my first 40 page issue, officially #2. More next post.






CRAMPS ADDENDUM-DE-DUMS...

Like I said when this little boat set sail, jetsam will float to the surface and flotsam, too, and being as it all ties in to the same ball- okay- disc, of wax, we'll include whatever turns up in the net. So, into the wayback machine once again. Set the controls to the heart of 1975-1976 with letters from pen pal Lux from WAAAAY before I ever considered making the move to NYC. Note Groovies mentions! Hooray!




Lyrics to Subwire Desire. Note my telephone pole art. Hmmm. No-talent at many levels.


Fine art circa 1976 by a Cramp (not me!)



Much more tomorrow. Don't miss a heart thumpin' minute!
Bye for now!

Post #11 Ramones 1st single

Here's some quick bits of random fandom at yas while we're on the first 45's tangent-- Blitzkrieg Bop. What an insane and great two sider. And hey, ho, remember  a crazy candy called Pop Rocks? It was kind of the mid-seventies chunky version of Lik-M-Ade or Pixie Stix? Came in a Kool-Aid size packet, dry sour granules that exploded in your mouth? I got my first pack from none other than the great one, Joey Ramone. He sent a pack along with some late breaking news and a note explaining the new fad candy. It was really kinda caustic, felt like your mouth was going to blow up or something. They took it off the market. Perhaps one of you candy luvvers would like to research this topic for summer credit and report back. RIP  Joey. And Johnny. And Dee Dee. Missed muchly. Here's a photo taken by that gal with an eagle eye, Miss Roberta Bayley, circa 1977. Call it "Autographs & Pictures". Dig Joey's Slade teeshirt. Nice!

10 Hell has frozen over

Norton's got a blog!

So, get on board..

the train to nortonville!

Norton blog

and also Look! Hear!

MySpace: Norton Records

and of course, also at...

Norton Records website

9 Cramps line up #2 (1977-1980)

This old print ad of the second line-up just floated up from the sump. Holy cow! The Cramps changed their image with the lineup and the rest is history, their own, very colorful history. Nick Knox (Stephanoff) arrived in NYC in late July of 1977, with his shiny, cool, new drum kit, not that Nick brought any weird ass stage wear with him. He was always the velvet jacket/black slacks Kink type guy back in Cleveland. This ad was the turning point, the start of their psychobilly signature. Had they caved in to the Sex Pistols and Damned and what-all from across the pond and beyond, what with the straps and all? Regardless, their timing was impeccable. Summer vacation, 1977, brought in a new slew of young uns getting their first taste of that crazy little sensation called Punk Rock.   Right around this time, the Fleshtones started sharing a rehearsal space with the new Cramps, and the 'Tones were in some kind of talks with a rock entrepreneur who said he could makes them stars if they dressed like vegetables. Did I dream this? Thankfully Zaremba and the lads told the guy to take a hike. 

On shtick:  If any of you saw the Ig early on, and as a highly impressionable teen, you know nobody would follow that brand of stage antics. I was a latecomer, seeing him in '73, and that was the end-uh, little girl. Bryan says he saw the Stooges a hundred times back in Michigan, including as the Psychedelic Stooges. And Bator's claim to fame was that he was the kid who handed Iggy the peanut butter at the 1970 Cincinnati Pop Festival. Remember, SB kept PB on hand for dermatological purposes. Anyway, the raging popularity of full-on punk rock and psychobilly would flame on for eons. Years later, people would say, "You were in the Cramps? Did you wear a red rubber dress? Did you look like Bettie Page?" And it was like, no, my wildest look was a worn out jacket, sneakers, and eye make up by Sherwin Williams. On my own fan wagon end of things, it was all about the Flamin Groovies, through various incarnations and lineups. And on the band front, well, we'll cover it all, so don't miss one gripping moment (zzzzz)  as there may be a pop quiz. So let's slide with this segue into Grooviesdom, not a bad place to be. At all. And not to fret, many more pre-1976 letters and photos and anecdotes to come from the Dark Ages. This stuff should have gone into space in '77 with the Voyager's golden record. But then again it might have scared future civilizations in distant galaxies in deep space, beyond the Milky Way. Again, a pet topic for another post.